


Tales from Before the Sun Rose

by Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe (DH AU) D version [21]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Backstory, Bravery, Brother-Sister Friendship, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brothers, Child Abuse, Courage, Domestic Violence, F/M, Family, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Romance, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stories of Galadriel, when she was still Artanis, in Aman. And stories of how she came to be the only female to stand tall amongst the Noldor exiles, and the ladies and ellyn who stood beside her, her friends, family, and members of her household. </p><p>Newly added: The story of the first meeting of the elf Sinyefal and his future wife Faenglorien, a handmaiden of the Lady Artanis (better known as the Lady Galadriel), as told to the Princes of Rohan and the Lady Haleth, the King's Granddaughter and the daughter of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, during the Fourth Age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Lady of Investments

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 summary: 
> 
> Summary: Lord Ingloren, an elf of Imladris, tells Faramir's daughter Mithiriel how he came to Middle Earth. Well, more or less.
> 
> This is a story being told in Fourth Age (FO) Year 20 or so. The OC who is the narrator of the story, Lord Ingloren, also appeared in "Journey Back from Annuminas," in "Tales of the Elves of Lothlorien." Mithiriel is Faramir's middle daughter, and she appears in "It Matters," in "Tales of the Telcontars"

Year of the Trees 4985, approximately

Ingloren, a young student of the Valar Aule and Yavanna, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to pay attention to his calculations for an experimental new food preservative, though tears blurred his vision.

FO. 20, Imladris, Dining Hall of the Last Homely House

"You can't call yourself that." Lord Erestor complained with some asperity.

Lord Ingloren frowned at the Lord-Regent of Imladris, who was much younger than Ingloren himself. "And why not, Erestor mellon-nin? I am telling this story, not you, and it is my name, after all."

"But you weren't called by that name, then, though." Erestor scolded primly, " And its not a proper translation of your Quenya name "Inglaurel," anyway. Which wasn't even your name, when you were that young. Weren't you still going by your father-name, then?"

Ingloren rolled his eyes as his friend Glorfindel chuckled. Ingloren did not use his father-name, as the reborn balrog-slayer know. Taking pity on both friend and grandson, Glorfindel gently instructed, "Let Ingloren call himself whatever he wants in his own story, inyonya. You can tell Mithiriel what he was wrong about, later. And you and she can share the horror of the truly-detail obsessed over the errors made by we lesser beings."

"Oh, thank you." Ingloren said to Glorfindel dryly, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Glorfindel chuckled again, "You'd be surprised by how often I hear that."

Mithiriel was observing all of this with a very wide-eyed expression. When the show seemed to be over for the moment, the fifteen year old turned sweetly to Lord Ingloren. "Oh, please do continue, Ingloren. I'd love to hear how you first met Lady Galadriel," teasing her mentor, Mithiriel paused before continuing, "though it was when she was still called the Lady Artanis."

Ingloren himself laughed lightly at Faramir's charming daughter, and Erestor rolled his eyes. Then Ingloren indulgently continued his story, although Glorfindel and Mithiriel noticed with some amusement that Erestor winced every time Ingloren called himself by his name.

Year of the Trees 4985, approximately

In the opinion of Ingloren, it had not been "entirely too dangerous" for him to personally taste-test his experimental solution for extending the life of food stuffs in storage by several years. It had just been, hmm, a bit premature, as his mixture had evidently not been ready for elf-testing. But his teachers, the Valar Aule the Smith and his wife Yavanna, the lady of growing things, had not been best pleased. And Aule's chief Maia, Curumo, hadn't had very much patience for Ingloren ever since one of his earliest experiments had exploded in a furnace next to a project of Curumo's, destroying it and requiring decades of work to re-do. Even Ingloren's helping Curumo figure out how to replicate his progress more quickly hadn't made it up to the Maia.

Ingloren much preferred Yavanna's Maia helper, Aiwendil. He was very patient and never minded Ingloren's questions about different plants or creatures. Though even Ingloren had to admit that Aiwendil's habit of wandering off to observe with delight the habits of one animal or another, and coming back years later, was a bit challenging for Yavanna's students when they had questions for him. And Ingloren, unlike some of the more senior students such as Lady Artanis, was not particularly good at divining where Aiwendil might be at any given time.

Aule's other students more or less ignored Ingloren, for Ingloren was younger than most of them, and had yet to accomplish anything truly impressive, save for mistakes. More, Ingloren's father was a net-maker from Alqualonde, and his mother a weaver. They were well enough off, but most of the elves who studied with Aule and Yavanna were the greatest and most talented in their fields, or at least promising young elves whose parents were of the nobility or otherwise notable.

Ingloren sighed, and paused to rub his head. He knew this preservative could really work, and practically eliminate food waste. But he was uncomfortable and unsettled, and he simply couldn't focus. He missed his parents and siblings and felt like he would never fulfill the promise Yavanna and Aule had seen in him when they first asked him to come study with them. Mostly, Ingloren just needed someone to talk to...about his ideas, about making mistakes, just a friendly ear. But he knew none of these powerful and wise elves would want to talk to the resident failure.

Artanis paused in her brewing again, looking to the sad young elf working by the window. She did not know him, but many of his ideas seemed intriguing to her, even if he was still working on gaining the experience and skills necessary to carry them out. Artanis wanted to approach him, but she so often said the wrong thing...either something that seemed so plain to her but was actually a secret that her conversation partner was horrified to hear her speak aloud, or just something that seemed fine enough to say to her, but was somehow insulting to most elves. And Artanis was proud, and did not like fumbling.

"Go talk to him, hinya." A lovely voice encouraged Artanis, "He could use a friend today, and you doubtless remember having days where your vision and your determination far exceeded your skill and abilities."

Artanis laughed. She was proud, but she had a good sense of humor, around those she felt comfortable with. And Yavanna's observation was true enough. Then Artanis asked, more seriously, "Is this Yavanna my teacher telling me I should try to extend a kind word to a younger fellow student, or the Lady Yavanna telling me I should meet young Ingloren, as sometimes you and your kin send me hints of the future in my dreams?"

"Nay, nildonya." Yavanna clarified, her voice like a ringing bell, her eyes amused and appreciative, "It is neither. Though we do appreciate how, when you make your investments based on hints we Valar send you, you give the profits from those investments to funds for those with talent whose families cannot fund their apprenticeships without aid. But this is just Yavanna, telling you to be brave and go make a new friend. I will clean up your work here."

Artanis shook her head, momentarily overcome by the Lady's kind but maternally determined nature. "But, my Lady, I may just make him feel worse..."

Yavanna laughed, "Child, even a lass as blunt as you cannot make poor Ingloren feel much worse today. Go on, be a brave elfling, and shoo."

So Artanis shoo'ed, over to the table where Ingloren sat with his sketches. Peering down at them, Artanis' pale blue eyes widened in interest. Some of them were fascinating...but no wonder that cousin Curufinwe disapproved, if Ingloren meant to use precious gems for such humble purposes as putting a finer cutting edge on metal-working tools. Then the Lady's eyes narrowed in concern, for Ingloren's head was in his hands, as if he were in pain. Artanis frowned and went to the sideboard, where a pot of mint tea sat, and some earthen-ware mugs. Filling one, she offered it to the younger elf. "Here," Artanis offered, "We haven't met. I'm Artanis."

Ingloren accepted the tea, but nearly dropped it in surprise. Of course he knew who she was. No other elf in Aman had such glorious hair, like the light of the two trees mingled, even if it was currently pulled back into braids, so that the Lady could work like any other alchemist. Artanis was also the daughter of a Prince, the granddaughter of the King of the Noldor elves, Finwe the Noldoran. And, more importantly from Ingloren's perspective, she was ever so clever. He used some of the tools she had invented for her work in his own experiments, and he was quite in awe of her.

"My Lady," he greeted, getting up to bow and tripping over his stool, which caused him to spill the tea all over himself and Artanis, as well as all over most of his drawings and calculations.

"Oh, dear." Artanis said worriedly, but to Ingloren's surprise she was more concerned about his drawings than getting doused with tea herself. She gently dried the parchments with her own skirts until Ingloren thought to grab a towel from the sideboard and hand it to her.

"I think I've saved them all." The great Lady told him with a relieved smile, and it was as if time stopped. She was that beautiful when she smiled. Though her smiled disappeared at the glazed look in Ingloren's eyes, as Artanis wondered if she'd done something to offend him. Fortunately, she was distracted by something else she'd noticed earlier. "Here," she pointed out to Ingloren, "You have these two numbers transposed."

Ingloren peered intently at the calculation she had indicated, and then grinned widely in relief. "I did. No wonder that particular concoction made me so sick." And he had been sick..nearly two days out of his head delirious, and the Lady Yavanna had nursed him back to health, and then her husband had...Ingloren blushed. He still didn't want to think of it.

"Don't worry." The Lady Artanis assured him kindly, "You're far from the only one of us to have made a memorable mistake. Even my allegedly perfect cousin Curufinwe has blown up a forge or three in his time. And Yavanna and Aule were quite unhappy with me after I and several other students, mostly Lindar like your Atar and my Amme, tried a new caulk for a sailboat which made the timbers fit together ever so much more finely, but," Artanis paused and smiled ruefully, "dissolved upon prolonged exposure to salt water. It was lucky for us that Lord Ulmo had taken an interest in our little project."

Ingloren's jaw dropped, "But you're so smart!" He said disbelievingly.

"Intelligence and common sense are hardly the same thing." Artanis replied with a self-deprecating smile, and Ingloren noted with some relief that her loveliness was slightly less overwhelming, upon a longer exposure. Looking at his work again, Artanis asked another question, and before Ingloren knew it, the light had changed, so he knew that over four hours must have passed. But it had seemed like no time at all...Artanis thought his ideas were full of merit, and her questions spurred him on to think of how he might bring them from drawings into reality.

"So, this formula I've developed...well, that I'm close to developing, it could be added to canned and stored food, and it...it reinforces the ways the particles of the food interact with one another, making them last two or three times as long before they change and succumb to rot." Ingloren explained earnestly, "I think I could really make it so that our food lasts several times as long, except no one will pay for the materials for me to do a large scale test, because they're rather expensive and everyone says we've never had a food shortage, here."

"Hmm." Artanis said thoughtfully, "I'll pay for them. They are expensive, and we have never had a food storage...but there are other reasons to make stored food last longer. Certain years, with more or less rain, produce the sweetest jams. And if the merchants who own the storage areas do not have to waste time cleaning them out of unsold inventory as often, or combating rodents attracted to the rot, then that will save some money. Over the long-term, it may even be profitable." And Artanis didn't say so, but she thought difficult times were coming.

"Do you always take the long view, my Lady?" Ingloren asked, charmed. Not so much by Artanis' beauty, but by her cleverness, and the way that talking to her was like a walk through a fascinating future of ideas.

"Not always," Artanis answered with a smile, as behind and to her left another elleth snorted and said sarcastically, "But nearly always."

Ingloren looked at the newcomer with interest. She was a tall elleth, nearly as tall as Artanis, with light-colored hair that might look like somewhat like Artanis' stunning mane, if one only looked quickly, from far away. Another elleth stood just beside her, and this one had a sweet smile and dark, typical Noldo coloring. Ingloren noted with some surprise that the blond elleth wore a sword on her hip.

"Ilcetiel," Artanis greeted the first with a pleased smile, "and you brought Laureamoriel. Perfect. I'd like to offer my new friend Ingloren the standard contract we offer to inventors in the field of alchemy," Artanis considered for a moment, "And the one that we offer to craftsmen for new inventions as well, but put in an 8% rate of return for me, rather than the normal 10%."

Ilcetiel looked at Ingloren critically. "Why?" She asked bluntly. "These days we only need to offer 8% to your charity cases, the ones you take on for the Valar. And I rather doubt the divine ones have much interest in him or his work." She waved towards Ingloren, her hand taking in his tea-stained robes and somewhat ragged appearance, after days of sickness and high emotion.

Artanis' eyes narrowed, but the shorter elleth with the warm dark eyes scolded her companion first, "Ilcetiel! For shame! Some of our Lady's most profitable and successful investments have come from entrusting her funds and faith to unproven but talented young elves." Laureamoriel smiled warmly at Ingloren, "I'm sure young student Ingloren will prove another such success." The dark-haired elleth sat down at the table between Artanis and Ingloren, and pulled out first a book, which she handed to Ilcetiel, and then blank parchment, upon which she started rapidly and, to Ingloren's eyes, quite expertly, writing up a contract.

Ilcetiel sighed, and Artanis, who knew her better, could tell she looked remorseful. "My apologies, student Ingloren. I am my Lady's elf of business, and my role often requires, ah,"

"We have to help Artanis keep track of which of her investments were her own ideas, and which were inspired by her visions or Faenglorien's," Laureamoriel explained, while elegant letters continued to flow from her quill, "and most of the investments, of late, have been inspired. Ilcetiel keeps track of the bottom line, which is a happier task when there is money coming in as well as going out."

"Though there is plenty enough for this." Ilcetiel said, looking over some of Artanis' notes on Ingloren's plans. "Some of these are really quite intriguing..."

And then Ingloren spent several more hours discussing the profit-making potential of his little ideas, which he'd never even considered, before, with Ilcetiel and Artanis. By the time the contract was signed and witnessed by Yavanna herself, it was nearly the dinner hour.

"Would you like to join us for dinner at my townhouse?" Artanis asked. And Ingloren said yes. And that, in many ways, was the start of how he came to Middle Earth. At Artanis' house Ingloren met other elves interested in the natural world, and in how to make new things which had never existed before. And he met elves who knew who to talk to, to get permission to try his experiments in one official place or another. Ingloren also met wealthy elves, who were willing to invest in his ideas, even after Artanis left with the other exiles. Becoming one of "Artanis' investments," was how Ingloren became a great alchemist, the start of how he came, later, to the attention of Aran Arafinwe.

But it was becoming Artanis' friend, and friend to the retainers who were like family to her, that led Ingloren to join the Host of the Valar, and come to Middle Earth. And it was friendship for Galadriel, and her retainers and kin, and their innovative human kinsmen and friends, that led Ingloren to stay.

FO. 20, Imladris, the Great Hall.

"Although he wasn't called Ingloren, then." Erestor pointed out, in case that was unclear.

Ingloren rolled his eyes as Glorfindel reached over to poke his grandson in the ribs.

"I'll have you know the first man I ever met mispronounced my name as "Ingloren," the day I arrived from the West with the Host of the Valar. I decided I liked it and Ingloren I've been, ever since." Ingloren explained.

Mithiriel finished writing that down, her handwriting nearly as elegant as that of Laureamoriel, to Ingloren's fond eyes. "How was it that Artanis had her own household, Ingloren? Most King's granddaughters don't, at least not among we humans." Mithiriel asked, and she would know.

"Most of Noldaran Finwe's granddaughters did not, either, nor even his daughters, if I recall, before they married." Ingloren explained.

"They didn't." Glorfindel agreed, "Princess Aredhel was always hanging about with my King Turgon, and Princess Findis and Princess Lalwen both lived in their father's home, until they married."

"Mithiriel, Anatar means Lady Irisse, and Lord Findecano. Princess Findis is correct, but Princess Lalwen was called Princess Irime, then." Erestor explained gently to Mithiriel, with an annoyed look for his grandfather.

Glorfindel grinned. "I thought about making up a Sindarin name for Findis just for you, Erestor-nin."

"I don't know what I'd do without you." Erestor replied, dead-pan. Ingloren and Mithiriel both laughed merrily, while Glorfindel gave his grandson a lazy, teasing salute with his ale.

"Please, Ingloren, would you tell me more of what Artanis' house was like, and why she had one, and how you found Middle Earth? What was it like, I mean, compared to Aman? Now, and at the end of the First Age, during the War of Wrath?" Mithiriel asked intently.

Ingloren smiled, because this little one reminded him of Artanis, and a bit of Laureamoriel and her brothers. And of Erestor, and Melpomaen, as well. Also sometimes of Elladan, who was Ingloren's favorite of all of Galadriel's many descendants. "Well, Miriel-nin," He started, only to be interrupted by the entrance of Mistress Sion, a family friend who was serving as Mithiriel's companion on this trip to Imladris, although mostly Sion spent her days taking cooking lessons with Mistress Siana. Mithiriel was not a teenager who required constant watching, more just reminders to eat and sleep, and a caring ear on the rare occasions when she was homesick or unsure of something.

"Miriel, my love, it is time for bed." Sion said kindly, but quite firmly. "Come away now, you can ask Lord Ingloren more questions in the morning."

Mithiriel gave Erestor an appealing, pitiful look, "But Erestor, I've only one life time to learn all of these things in. May I not at least study a bit longer tonight?" Mithiriel had been spending long hours with Erestor, studying any number of different subjects. She had even proven a capable assistant in his administrative duties, which left him with more time to guide Mithiriel in her mostly-self motivated educational endeavors. And if Lord Erestor said that Mithiriel might stay up, she knew Sion would reluctantly agree.

Glorfindel eyed his grandson carefully. It was the type of argument that Erestor was most susceptible to, after all.

"Nay, Miriel-nin." Erestor answered sympathetically, with an annoyed look out of the corner of his eye for his Anatar, as Erestor had, after all, raised a child of his own, and was not a total pushover. "I promised your parents that I would not let you stay up to all hours of the night, and I do want them to be pleased with the arrangement, that you might visit us again in the future."

Mithiriel could see the logic in that, so she bid her elven friends and temporary guardian during her visit a cheerful good night, and went to bed, to dream of history and things that had never yet been, but might someday be. Perhaps if Mithiriel helped Daernana Arwen with her plans to improve the educational standards of Gondor's and Arnor's open schools...Mithiriel found the parchment and quill on the table beside her bed by feel, and began writing.

"Mithiriel. Ten minutes, and then no more writing." Sion called from the doorway.

"I just have to write this down, 'ere I forget." Mithiriel protested absently.

"Ten minutes, my lass." Sion repeated.

Mithiriel finished in eight, and lay down, sleep finally claiming her.

Sion shook her head. Mithiriel was the most like her distant elven kin, of the Prince Faramir's and the Lady Eowyn's children. So it was a relief to see her fit in somewhere almost perfectly, at last. A pity, thought Tutor Hallas' mother, that the only crowd Mithiriel seemed to fit in with effortlessly, was one populated mostly by millenia old elves.


	2. The Perils of Destiny's Dolls in Ingwe's Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Artanis isn't sure which set of the multiverse her dolls are acting out today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story occurs during the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 1,390 years before the sun rises. If my numbers are off slightly because I'm rounding Valian years to taking about 10 years instead of 9.8 something years, please forgive me. In any case, Artanis is 12 or 13 years old, so the equivalent of about a human five years old.

The Noldor prophetess Faenglorien's eyes felt covered in sawdust, but she merely grimaced and refocused them on the still water before her. "Show me the sea wall that will fail, or the day of the storm..." She implored, but no vision came.

"Come, hinya." The Vala Yavanna, the Queen of the Earth and the Giver of Fruits, said kindly but firmly to Faenglorien, who was her student, as well as the student of the Valar Vaire and Lorien. "You need a break from your labors; you have not left your glass for nigh on a week. I require that you accompany us today, to take new cuttings for King Ingwe's gardens."

Faenglorien stubbornly shook her head. She knew that if she could just see the details that eluded her..."My Lady, elves will be injured, perhaps die if the sea wall gives way!" Faenglorien objected, "And we have not the means to check all of the many miles of it!"

Yavanna regarded her distraught pupil with sympathy. Faenglorien was neither young nor old, amongst the elves of the Noldor. Her family had been of relatively humble origins, but partly because the leaders of the Vanyar, Noldor and Lindar respected her visions, Faenglorien's family had risen to greater prominence. Her brother, formerly a herder, had been taken on by Yavanna as a healer-in-training, though Celvafinion specialized in the healing of animals, rather than elves, and was nearly as absentminded as his principal tutor the Maia Aiwendil. One of Faenglorien's cousins, Almare, had married into the family of a Lord in service to the Noldoran's eldest son and heir, Prince Feanaro (later to be called Finwe). But in addition to her gift, Faenglorien was most admired for her dedication, such as she was showing now, to using that gift of prophecy for the betterment and safety of all elves.

Still, Yavanna was firm. Her dear student's exhausting herself to the point of illness was in no one's best interests. "Faenglorien, my dear, you very much need a break, even if you cannot see it yourself. Your friend Rielsame shall be among our number, and your cousin Almare shall be there, looking after some of the royal elflings."

"I oughtn't leave..." Faenglorien objected, still not looking up from her work.

Yavanna frowned, "I insist that you come and spend some time with us in the sunshine, amongst the green and growing things. This is your last warning, hinya. I will not have you make yourself ill."

Faenglorien, missing the warning note in the Vala Yavanna's voice, murmured, "Nay, I must stay...I am close, I feel I am, to knowing where or when the flood will happen..."

Yavanna sighed in loving exasperation, then gently pulled Faenglorien into her arms, kissing the startled seeress on the forehead, before seating herself and pulling Faenglorien over her lap.

"Oh...Oh!" Faenglorien protested in surprised dismay, "Please, my Lady, no!" The indignity of a spanking had not been visited upon Faenglorien in many, many years, and she was truly unhappy to have earned one now. But Faenglorien did not deny that she had behaved poorly, or that Yavanna, who cared for her deeply, had the right to mete out this discipline.

"Aye, my sweet child." Yavanna said sympathetically as she lifted Faenglorien's skirts and gently drew down her student's undergarments, "You are both kind and dedicated, my dear Faenglorien. And you are often wise, but you still must learn to care for yourself. You have been foolish, and so I shall remind you to have a greater care for my dearly beloved student," Yavanna explained, bringing her hand down in stinging smacks upon Faenglorien's white bottom cheeks, "and to not be so foolish."

"Ooh!" Faenglorien gasped unhappily, "Oh, oww!," as Yavanna's strong hand continued pinkening her bottom. It was not a hard spanking, but it had been many years since Faenglorien had last behaved so as to inspire one who cared for her to chastise her thusly. "I'm sorry, my Lady!" Faenglorien gasped.

Yavanna continued the punishment until Faenglorien's bottom was a light pink from the tops of her cheeks to the tops of her thighs, making sure to leave only enough time between spanks for the elven prophetess to feel the sting of each. Then she stopped, laying a gentle hand on Faenglorien's heated bottom. "Now, shall you accompany us to plant flowers and trees with King Ingwe and his family, hinya, or shall I continue your lesson, and tuck you into bed for the day?" Yavanna asked gently and kindly but with implacable intent to see Faenglorien move from the work that was consuming her.

"I should prefer to go with you and garden!" Faenglorien quickly answered.

Yavanna, chuckling gently, set her prophetess student on her feet, "A wise decision, hinya. I shall send Rielsame to help you get ready. "

Soon enough, Faenglorien had eaten and was immersed in a warm, sweet smelling bath with the aid of her long-time friend and fellow student of Yavanna, Rielsame the gardener. Faenglorien, weak after days of too little food and sleep, had needed to lean on Rielsame to disrobe.

Rielsame, upon noticing the weakness and the pink flush upon Faenglorien's bottom cheeks, had shaken her golden head at the prophetess. Rielsame gently scolded, "Faen, sometimes you are too much a Noldo for your own good. You cannot pursue knowledge at the cost of all else...there must be a balance. Health and small pleasures and joy in life, care of yourself and others, as well as perfecting your sight."

Faenglorien sighed, for she did know that. Later in the day, walking around the bright gardens of the Vanyaran King's palace, she tried to lose herself in the pleasures of the moment, the joy of her friends' and cousin's company, the happy laughter of the royal elflings and adolescents. But it was not easy...Faenglorien's mind kept coming back to the lives which could be lost if the storm she had seen in a vision burst the sea walls of a Lindar town, only she didn't know which one...she had not seen enough to make an identification.

At length Faenglorien noticed another discontented spirit, although to be fair, so did the entire garden.

"Anamille!" A beautiful young elfling in a lovely but dirt-stained dress complained loudly to Queen Indis, "Artanis is killing off my dollies again!"

The Queen of the Noldor elves, who was visiting her Vanyaran kin along with a number of her grandchildren and their attendants, shook her head impatiently, "Irisse, darling, perhaps you might help us to plant flower bulbs, if you and Artanis cannot play contentedly."

"But...but it's not fair!" Arelda, also known as Irisse, the only daughter of Prince Nolofinwe, protested. "She's not to kill off my dollies! Nurse says she isn't."

"You would stop us if we had acted thusly, and Artanis is always playing creepy games where dolls die." Curufinwe observed sulkily. Feanoro's fifth son rarely missed an opportunity to do as his father had asked, and accuse his step-grandmother of favoritism towards Nolofinwe's and Arafinwe's children.

Queen Indis, wishing she had not dismissed her normally well-behaved granddaughters' nurses for the afternoon, or that Almare would actually keep her own adolescent charge occupied, sighed and went to mediate. Faenglorien, moved by some impulse, followed.

They came upon a small elfling, perhaps just a bit younger than Arelda's thirteen or fourteen years, who sat in the grass, patiently building a line of sticks tied together with hair ribbons and caulked with mud, on the one side of which were scale models of Lindar houses inhabited by exquisite little dolls, and on the other side of which was a bucket of water. Faenglorien admired that the elfling had mostly managed to keep the toys and her white gown clean, although there was a streak of mud in her remarkable silver-and-gold hair.

"Artanis, my dear granddaughter," Indis scolded gently, "It is important to let your playmate's dolls live to the end of the game if you desire to still have playmates. Apologize to Arelda. Now, please."

Arelda, less philosophic, added, "Yeah. And you'll get spanked again 'cause you're not supposed to kill off my dollies. Curufinwe says it's creepy, and I agree."

Artanis wasn't paying them very much attention. "I told you, Irisse" she said softly, picking up the bucket of water, "I'm not sure which...string of maybe is going to vibrate, so I don't know if anyone's dollies are going to live. You woke me up before the dream ended, so I don't even know as much as I might if you hadn't."

"It's Alqualonde." Faenglorien said suddenly, "Where the storm-surge will come."

Artanis dropped the bucket, which fell on its side, sending a wall of water towards the tiny toy town. The wall of twigs held, except where the wall of twigs and mud was built on a stone instead of trampled grass. There the twigs gave way, as the sea wall of Alqualonde might, where it had been built on less expensive boulders instead of filled pilings.

"It's real?" Artanis asked, blue eyes wide in her face that was too solemn to be an elfling's. "Really real? Every night, disasters and blood and joy and heartache mingled...some of it can't be because the air isn't right, or the discordant one left before the bad place was built and there is no sea wall because it was never needed..."

"Oh, dear." Faenglorien murmured weakly. In all of the histories of the elves, she could not remember the power of prophecy ever coming to an elfling this young. Let alone the skill to see pasts-that-might-have-been and futures-that-could-never-be, without any training whatsoever.

"Yavanna!" Faenglorien called, as Arelda complained about her wet dolls, and Queen Indis breathed a sigh of mingled relief and astonishment, and called for Artanis' nurse to be recalled, and her parents notified.

Artanis wept tears of heart-felt gratitude. She wasn't crazy, and maybe this elleth and the Valar, whom her parents and nurse said were great and powerful but very good, could help stop the scary sights from coming in her sleep. Then she wouldn't have to try to struggle to understand them in the day, and she could play dollies more like Arelda wanted, when she wasn't climbing trees with the male elflings.

But they never could stop the visions, though Artanis, with the help of the Valar and her family and friends, did learn better control and balance. Still, thousands of years and several ages hence, the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood would almost envy Finduilas of Dol Amroth, whose parents had recognized her baby nightmares for visions, from the start.


	3. Helpless Moments prologue and part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eldarion's sons are a chip of the block, but Glorfindel had his helpless moments, too. And a lot of them relate to his lost wife, and her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This five part story was in response to a prompt from Sparx: Five Days of Helplessness - Each day has a different prompt, starting with just 'helpless,' and then going to 'helpless fear,' then 'helpless sobs,' then 'helpless romantic,' and lightening up at the end with 'helpless laughter.' Thanks to Sparx for the prompt, and Emma for looking over this story long ago when I first wrote it. 
> 
> A/N 2: The main story, the first part, is set before the sun rose, in Aman. During the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 1,090 years before the sun rises. If my numbers are off slightly because I'm rounding Valian years to taking about 10 years instead of 9.8 something years (or off entirely for some other reason), please forgive me. In any case, Artanis is a young elleth of a bit over 300 years of age. Later parts of the flashback move to when the Noldor exile rebels were crossing the Helcaraxe.
> 
> The prologue takes place in approximately Fourth Age Year 41 or 42 (Eldarion would be about 43; his twin sons are about 16).

Prologue: 

The relative quiet of a third day evening on the fourth circle of Minas Tirith was rent by the terrifying sound of a woman crying for help.

Glorfindel had been shadowing some young escapees from the citadel, but he didn't have to choose between protecting them and going to the mystery lady's aid, because of course, of course, Faramir's younger son Lord Ecthelion (called Elion), just nineteen years of age, and his partners in crime, Princes Elros and Kader, the only sons of Crown Prince Eldarion, had immediately set off running towards the sounds of distress.

Glorfindel sighed, and followed them. Trying to teach the heirs of Earendil not to go running off to the rescue of a lass without a second thought was a helpless, thankless task. And really, Glorfindel himself was only more cautious, and not uninclined to do more-or-less the same thing.

Soon enough, they came upon a robber, who already had a female merchant's coin pouch in his hand, but was now fiercely beating her with it, for having dared to fight back.

The spirit had gone out of the terrified woman who was his victim, and she sobbed helplessly as the Princes and their cousin ran to the rescue, just paces ahead of the Balrog-Slayer. Whose aid Faramir's younger son and Eldarion's sons didn't really need just to deal with one vicious robber. Glorfindel was proud of them, although it wouldn’t spare them from the storm which would break over their deserving heads once he got them back to their father, or in Elion's case, older brother. 

Later, when the robber was cooling his heels in the guard station on the third level, impatiently but carefully being tended by Lord Elion the healer-in-training, Glorfindel found his first moments alone with Aragorn's second-heirs.

The shame-faced but still proud Princes were nursing bruises and soon-to-be-sore bottoms under the Balrog-Slayer's watchful eyes, waiting for their father and his guards to come collect them, but that didn't seem to intimidate them overly much.

Prince Elros, the heir's heir, crossed his arms and said half-defiantly, half-apologetically, "Well, go ahead, Uncle Glorfindel. Scold us. You know you want to."

Glorfindel snorted, and advised with a grin, "Next time, Eldarionnath, just hit him harder."

Lord Elion, back from treating the wounds the robber had gotten as he'd tried to stop himself from being captured, merely laughed, as his best friends stared on incredulously.

Then Crown Prince and Regent Eldarion was there, as well as Lord Elboron the Steward-Regent, and the three youths had other things to worry over, for a time. 

"Oh, come on." Faramir's younger son asked the twins later, when they were alone in the princes' bed chamber in Eldarion's apartments, "Didn't anyone ever tell you two the story of Uncle Glorfindel's wife, tithen gwedyr-nin?" 

"No," the younger twin, Kader, said, rolling his eyes in disgust as he teased, "We're not Lady Miriel-the-elf-friend's favorite-sweet-baby-brother, so we don't know all the best elven gossip from before the sun rose. So, tell us, oh sweet-brother-mine. I am your Prince, or one of them anyway, and I command it of you." Kader was somewhat annoyed that Elion was in less trouble, because he was older, and cousin Elboron was a soft touch. 

"Well, I don't know if I should, if you're going to be like that..." Elion murmured, shifting in place uncomfortably between the twins. They were all in enough trouble without Kader starting more, and it had been all the twins' idea as usual to sneak out. Besides, no called Elion sweet-brother except Mithiriel, and maybe her husband, whom Elion idolized.

"Tell us, please, Elion." Elros pleaded. Eldarion's son Elros was a bit of a diplomat and a peace-maker, while his twin Kader was a cheerful trouble-maker. It was a dynamic that worked out well, and Elion thought his older brother Elboron was probably right. Elion's twin cousins and gwedyr would be a powerfully effective team as King and General, someday. Or maybe King and Admiral - Kader had been born with a love of the sea.

"Oh, very well. Since you were both caught out on my watch, here it is." Elion had a hard time denying his little cousins much of anything, when they asked nicely. And besides, he was older and more responsible, and it wasn't all their fault that they always talked him into trouble.

 

Aman, During the Years of the Trees in the First Age: 

Laureamoriel laid on her comfortable bed, on top of the silken sheets, trying not to cry in horror. She could clearly hear, from her parent's bed chamber beside hers, her mother's helpless cries of pain.

"Oww!" Almare screamed, "Please, please....my Lord Husband! Mercy!" 

Another loud crack, and the flat of her father's blade against her mother's fair skinned backside. Laureamoriel winced. 

"This is mercy, you simple, sweet little fool!" Senior Officer Hiswafion, one of Feanor's favorite household guards, growled menacingly to his wife. 

Almare wept, and so did her daughter Laureamoriel, from the safety of her room and the comfort of her silken sheets. Laureamoriel wept silently, so as not to attract her father's rage. 

Almare's loud, broken sobs did not stop her husband. 'Crack' went the blade again, and then clatter, as it was dropped on the floor, and Laureamoriel hoped that it was over. Then she heard the softer swish and thwack of the maple cane, and knew that it was not. 

"You ruined Prince Feanoro's favorite tunic!" Hiswafion berated, in his loud, bold voice. "The one that Lord Melkor himself gave to our Prince! You stupid little fool, how can you call yourself a laundress! I should never have shamed my family by marrying an elleth so beneath me as you!" 

And Laureamoriel cried desperately while her mother pleaded and suffered, because it was Laureamoriel, who, while daydreaming, had added the soap that discolored the Prince's tunic. She had been punished for it, by her mother, but just with a hairbrush. Almare had been stern but kind, and careful. 

Hiswafion was not. And Laureamoriel hated herself, for not admitting that it was her fault, for not interfering to protect her mother. But Laureamoriel kept her promises, and she had promised her mother that she wouldn't tell her father that it had been she, and not Alamare, who ruined the tunic. 

"I deserve to be punished for giving such an important task to you anyway, yelde ammelda." Almare had said consolingly, "Everyone knows you prefer your books and scrolls to learning the ways of a wife from me. But no worries, we shall see you well-married someday, no matter. You are beautiful, gentle-natured, and the daughter of an officer in our Prince's guard. 

Laureamoriel had managed a tremulous smile for her brave mother, but silently, the young dark-haired beauty had made herself a promise. One she repeated as she listened to her mother wail in helpless misery and pain.

"I will never marry." Laureamoriel promised herself, "Never, never, never will I put myself in thrall to an ellon."


	4. Helpless Moments part 2: Helpless Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel's future wife Laureamoriel enters the service of Artanis, who will one day be called Galadriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Set before the sun rose, in Aman. During the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 1,090 years before the sun rises. Artanis is a young elleth of a bit over 300 years of age. Laureamoriel is just a little over fifty years old.
> 
> The original character Lady Niniel is the creation of Kaylee, and a character in her and Emma's AU. I use her with their kind permission.

Laureamoriel was just past her majority, still quite a young elleth, when her father hit her hard enough to draw blood for the first time. She thought that she might have deserved it - after all, she'd corrected him, about the proper name of the dish that had been served for dinner that night. But she would never forget the helpless fear, as Hiswafion's face turned dark with rage, and he raised his hand to strike her.

The next day, Laurea's mother took her to visit her cousin the prophetess, Faenglorien. To Laureamoriel's surprise, Almare showed Faenglorien the cut and bruise on Laurea's cheek, and confessed everything, everything of the dangerous monster Hiswafion had become, in the privacy of his own home.

Faenglorien was fearful on their behalf, but oddly hopeful. "I know someone who refuses to ever be helpless. No matter if she really is," Faenglorien said, and told them that she was taking them to see her Lady, Artanis. 

Laureamoriel's mother Almare frowned, and asked, "Lady Artanis? Prince Finarfin's youngest? Why, but she's just an elfling..."

Dark-haired, delicate Faenglorien, who looked much like her little cousin Laureamoriel, sobered and told Almare, "She's young, yes. And she certainly has her elfling moments from time to time. But, she is one of the most courageous, kind, and intelligent beings I've ever met. And I've never met an elf as determined as she. Don't underestimate Artanis, dear cousin, and don't ever try to lie to her."

So they went from Faenglorien's chamber to the blue-and-gold sitting room of Finarfin's daughter. Artanis was not there when they first arrived. Her chief hand-maiden Niniel, whom Laureamoriel vaguely had once been Artanis' nurse, told them that Artanis was engaged in some project for the Vala Aule, but would be with them presently.

Laureamoriel bowed and smiled politely, if shyly, at Lady Niniel, but her attention was on a young lioness, white as snow, curled up on a great blue cushion with a golden-furred grey hound. As Laurea gasped, the lioness awoke, blinking cerulean eyes at the young elleth.

"Snow doesn't bite, hinya." Lady Niniel said briskly, "And you may pet her, if you like."

Laureamoriel did, delighted with the lioness's soft fur, and so pleased that the magnificent, proud creature had consented to let her pet it, that she forgot all about the pain on her cheek and the desperate reason for this visit. As the lioness purred, a deep, bone-rattling sound, her companion awoke. So Laurea petted the greyhound, Golden Flower, as well.

"Golden Flower does bite, normally." A chiming voice commented with interest, "But it seems that she likes you."

Laureamoriel looked up to see Artanis, the beautiful, elegant, proud daughter of the King's youngest son. Blushing, slender, petite, delicate Laureamoriel curtsied, and Artanis nodded in acknowledgement, before turning to ask Almare and Faenglorien, "Odd companions for a sixth day's visit, my Faen. What can Arafinwe's daughter do for the wife and daughter of one of Feanaro's officers?"

Faenglorien told the entire story, while Almare, wincing and almost teary-eyed, confirmed. Laurea, so overwhelmed with lioness and noble hound and lady, felt numb, protected, almost, from the emotion, the horror, of the moment when her mother permitted their cousin to tell a royal lady of their suffering, and make it real. But Laurea kept her wits about her enough to wonder at the flash of empathy in Artanis' eyes. After all, what could a Prince's daughter have ever had to fear?

When Faenglorien was finished, Artanis merely nodded, and promised, "I will take you into my service, if that is what you wish. And I will protect you." 

Almare, out of options, accepted. And Artanis kept her promise, despite Niniel's objection that she should have asked her parents first, before taking two of Crown Prince Feanaro's elves into her own service.

And Artanis should have, of course, which precipitated a fight with her family that led to Artanis taking her nascent household and moving them into a dilapidated townhouse in a barely-polite district of Tirion. But still, Artanis kept her promise, and as she foresaw, the criminals who called their new neighborhood home gradually began to leave for other places.

It was a wonderful time for Laureamoriel. She was safe, safe for the first time in her life from her father's temper, unkind words, and harsher blows. When Laurea corrected Artanis one night at the dinner table, Artanis merely gave her an irritated look which melted into a startled smile, and then complimented Laureamoriel on her cleverness. The next day, she found Laureamoriel a tutor, and soon after Laurea began helping Artanis with one of her projects or another. It was the beginning of Lady Artanis, investor and elf-of-business, and Laurea was a part of it.

Almare was enjoying their new circumstances much less. As comfortable as their new townhome became within a few weeks and months, and as glorified an address as it would become in future years, Almare was never happy there. She missed the palace, the cachet that she had possessed as one of the Crown Prince's favored officers' wives. Hiswafion had abused her, but she still missed him dreadfully.

Artanis did not seem to miss the palace, although the first few weeks in their new home were challenging for all of them, even their Lady. But she did feel keenly the separation from her own parents, with whom she'd quarreled over taking Almare and Laureamoriel into her service. At one point, Princess Irime, Aran Finwe's younger daughter and Artanis' youngest aunt, visited to extend an olive branch to the young royal Lady, on her mother the Princess Earwen's behalf.

Artanis accepted. As she and Lady Niniel were preparing to leave for tea with her mother, she paused, her eyes resting on both Almare and Laureamoriel. After a few moments, Artanis commanded, "Laurea. Come with us."

As they returned to the palace where her father dwelled with the Crown Prince, Laurea shivered in helpless fear. Artanis was lost in her own thoughts, but Niniel's strict but kind eyes fell on Laureamoriel, and the maternal elleth commanded gently, "Laurea hinya, stop that fidgeting. You are wrinkling your gown. Here, help me fix our aranelya's hair."

"Oh, fuss fuss fuss, Niniel, it's fine," Artanis protested, but a look from Niniel had her sighing and turning about, tacit permission for Niniel and Laureamoriel to straighten the gold, silver, and pale blue ribbons in Artanis' gold and silver hair.

Soon enough, they were in the Princess Earwen's bright solar, and Laureamoriel was amazed at how Artanis was able to convey in polite words how very unimpressed she was with her parents. She was also amazed at how Princess Earwen was able to convey love for her daughter at the same time as a lack of tolerance for Artanis' poor attitude, all in the way she offered her daughter tea. Also present was Princess Irime, and Crown Princess Nerdanel, Feanaro's estranged wife.

Before the desserts were served, Crown Prince Feanaro himself came to Princess Earwen's solar, with Laureamoriel's father Hiswafion at his side.

Prince Feanaro insisted that he was going to take Almare and Laureamoriel back for Hiswafion.

Hiswafion himself bid his daughter, "Come, Laureamoriel. Cease this foolishness. I wish you to return home, with me." Hiswafion's eyes held something of apology, and the love that he did truly feel for his daughter.

Almare wasn't there - and Laurea now knew why Artanis had not brought her. Her mother would have gone. Laurea would not. She knew that she should, that she owed her father her obedience. But in that moment, Laureamoriel found that she owed herself something as well. And she would not turn herself over to be harmed. So Laureamoriel shook her head, and managed to murmur softly, "No, Atar."

Hiswafion's face flushed with fury, and Feanaro commanded that Laureamoriel would accompany him. Feanaro obviously did not expect any of the ellith there to stop him, and, even as well as she knew Artais, Laureamoriel feared that none would.

Bu Artanis stood up for Laureamoriel, commanding, "No, uncle. Laurea shall return with me. She is my retainer, sworn to my service, and I do not consent to your taking her against her will."

It was Feanaro's turn to flush with fury, and Laurea feared for Artanis.

But then Princess Nerdanel said, "Let this go, husband. Consider it a price for Tani's having kept your secrets, 'lo these many years."

And that was that. Feanor's jaw clenched, but he commanded, "leave it, Hiswa. Otherwise pityaArafinwe's little blond bride will sniffle, and that... elleth who my father married will give her what she wants.

Princess Earwen beautiful face grew cold at the insult to her husband and mother-by-law, and she commanded her brother-by-law, "Get out, Feanaro. You are no longer welcome in my parlor, today."

Feanaro took his leave, Hiswafion with him, leaving behind Princess Earwen and her ladies, Princess Nerdanel and her ladies, Princess Irime and her ladies, and Artanis, Niniel, and Laureamoriel. 

Ever since Nerdanel had remonstrated with her husband, there had been a funny look on Artanis' lovely face. As emotionally wrung out as Laurea was at that moment, she worried over her lady. Princess Earwen sent her ladies away, and Irime left to consult with Queen Indis.

Princess Nerdanel turned to her niece, and comforted, "It was not your fault, sweet child. It was none of your fault." 

Earwen turned to her daughter, and commanded, "What was that about, yelde? What secret have you kept for your uncle?"

Artanis shook her head, looking away, but Earwen was the Lindaran's daughter, and she was not to be denied. It was the first time Laurea had seen Artanis lose any contest of wills about a subject matter other than housekeeping or fashion, and to anyone other than Lady Niniel.

Artanis at last answered reluctantly, "You know that I see things, Amya. Our past and futures-that-could-be, sometimes. Other times, I see different pasts-that-weren't, and the futures that belong to them, the futures-that-can-never-be. We all have a dark side. We all have the capacity to be monsters, even kind and good ellith like you."

Startled, Earwen blinked, but accustomed to being startled by her only daughter, she quickly recovered, and answered, "Yes, I suppose so, yelde, but I do not dwell on such things."

Artanis sighed, "I can't help seeing the visions. If I were to become...the worst version of myself, I could make even Melkor know fear." Artanis said that last in a dreamy voice, the way that some ellith would describe their long-hoped for and imagined wedding, or the birth of their first child. Laureamoriel loved her lady, but even she was scared of Artanis, in that moment.

And so was Earwen, though she did an admirable job of hiding it, "Oh, yelde?" She asked, as if only mildly interested. Laureamoriel wondered what kind of elleth it took, to be the mother of a force of nature such as Artanis.

Artanis continued in a more normal voice, "It is understandable that Finwe's eldest son, who inherited the most of grandfather's fiery spirit, could make of himself an impressively awful monster, too." 

Earwen gave her daughter a sympathetic look, and seemed relieved that it was all a might-have-been, as she comforted, " I suppose so, ammelda yelde."

Artanis permitted her mother to pull her into a gentle embrace as she explained, "But I do not talk about futures-that-can-never-be. We all have dark moments. It's the turning away from them that matters." 

Laureamoriel looked away, but she could still hear the Princess as Earwen said quietly to Artanis, "I love you, my daughter, though I may never understand you, and there are certainly times when I don't agree with you. But I think that you are probably right, in that last." 

As they left the palace that day, Laurea knew that but for the royal lady she now served, and Artanis' mother and aunts, and something Artanis knew about something Feanor hadn't done...or at least probably hadn't done (Laurea rather thought that Artanis might have been finessing the truth a bit there, at the end), and, oh yes, the courage Laurea herself had found at the last moment, she would even now be back with her father. And her mother would have followed. And they would have been taken to Feanor's estates with their father, and who knew when they might have again escaped or found safety. Laurea reflected to herself that any ellon can become a monster to his wife, and no one will stop him, and promised herself again, "I will never put myself in position to know that helpless fear. I will never marry."

Time moved on, and Laureamoriel, who was only a few centuries younger than Artanis, grew confident enough in her position with her lady to tell 'Tani that she thought Artanis was lucky, to have such caring parents who loved her even if they didn't understand her, and that Laurea thought Artanis should apologize to her parents for the way that she'd gone about setting up her own household to protect Almare and Laureamoriel, even if she wasn't sorry for what she'd done.

Artanis at first snapped back that Laureamoriel didn't understand what it was to be Artanis, but because Laurea knew her better than most, she ended up agreeing. As hard as it was for Artanis to admit to having made a mistake, she soon made time to speak to her parents, apologizing for the disrespect with which she'd acted, although not for what she'd done. After that, to Laurea, Artanis seemed happier, more at peace, even if she didn't sit for that day or most of the next, but then...Tani rarely was still, she was always in motion. At her studies with the valar, or working on some project under their supervision. Or overseeing her investments, or helping Faenglorien's friend Rielsame turn the garbage and weed choked trickle of water and wild behind their town home into a beautiful garden.

Some years later, that last project was still ongoing, and Laurea leaned forward with a laugh to gently brush a streak of mud off of her lady's forehead, as they planted ferns near the creek in the garden.

Artanis tried to grab Laurea's hand, but missed, and Laurea squeaked as she realized that in trying to wipe the mud off of her Lady's face, she'd only gotten more of it onto Artanis (as Laurea's gloved hands were caked in mud, too). 

Artanis sighed, and then laughed, and Laureamoriel had to smile back.

"We'd best clean up before Niniel sees," Artanis remarked with a smile still lurking in her blue eyes.

Laurea, giggling, agreed, "Yes. And I have letters to write before then, asking for donations for the garden."

Artanis made a face, and apologized, "Sorry, nildonya. That sounds terribly boring."

Laureamoriel shook her head, "I don't mind it. I prefer ink to mud, anyway."

Artanis smiled, and then asked thoughtfully, "And what do you want to do with your life, my little Laurea?"

Laureamoriel accepted her lady's hand to rise, and then said hesitantly, "I'm not sure. I've always used my mother-name, my father didn't bother to give me a name, not being much impressed by a girl. My mother-name means golden ink. My mother tells me that when I was born, she saw a golden light spilling across the sky like golden ink- like the light of Laurelin, the golden tree, but different."

Artanis put an arm around Laurea as they walked back towards the house, and pondered, "Hmm, you write a fine hand. Perhaps a scribe, for now?"

Laureamoriel smiled at the rare affection from her lady, and agreed, "I'd love that. But ellith usually don't become scribes."

"My ellith - my friends- can do what they please." Artanis replied, voice unwavering, "Even marry as they please. I'll even dower you, for your years of faithful service to me. Should you find some ellon you take a like to." 

It was a noble offer, and deserved a gracious response, "Thank you, Tani." Laureamoriel managed, "But, I...I never want to marry." 

Artanis, who understood some of why, turned to look Laureamoriel in the eyes, before pulling her into a sisterly embrace and promising, "You never have to. Besides, I like having you to help me understand when I'm..." Artanis paused.

Laureamoriel smiled impishly, "Letting your pride obscure your wisdom?"

Artanis made a face and agreed, "Yes, that." 

Laureamoriel became one of Artanis' most trusted friends as well as her handmaiden and scribe. One of the few, along with Niniel, Faenglorien, and later the sharp-edged Ilcetiel, who would sleep in the great lady's chamber, and hold Artanis when her dreams and prophecies tormented her in the night. Of them all, only Laurea guessed that not all of the evils that Artanis saw of her eldest half-uncle were unrealized, and understood, too, that an elfling who had survived that kind of evil was never truly an elfling again. And Laurea understood the price that pain bought, and kept Artanis' secret, to her grave and beyond.


	5. Helpless Moments part 3: Helpless Sobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almare returned to Hiswafion, although Laureamoriel never did. But in time, her younger brothers found her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The main story is set before the sun rose, in Aman. During the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 400 years before the sun rises. Later parts of the story move to when the Noldorin exile rebels were crossing the Helcaraxe.

Almare eventually went back to her husband Hiswafion, and gave him two more children, sons who were named Siromo and Helyandur. They were about of an age with Ambarussa, and sometimes playmates. Their father never let them go to Artanis' parties, though. They did not know their older sister, as Laureamoriel stayed with Artanis as one of her trusted handmaidens, and neither Laurea nor Artanis were willing to risk Laureamoriel seeing her father or any of his or Feanaro's elves anywhere except for public places, with an armed guard for Laureamoriel, even then. 

For a while after Almare returned to Hiswafion, things were better. 

Their first son Siromo was a strong, capable ellon. From a young age, he showed signs of becoming an excellent warrior, like his father. He also studied architecture, and Crown Prince Feanaro himself took pride in Hiswafion's first son. 

Their younger son Helyandur, on the other hand, was earnest and hard-working, but a bit of a daydreamer. He reminded Hiswafion of his disinherited daughter, Laureamoriel. Helyandur had little interest in swordplay, but had a fine hand for drawing. Helyandur was a gentle soul, with an artistic spirit. He loved his mother, and he idolized his older brother, and worshipped his distant father. Even though Helyandur couldn't remember one moment when he'd pleased his father, ever. Even when Macaulaure, Crown Prince Feanaro's second son, praised Helyandur's talents, Hiswafion still was not pleased with him. 

When Helyandur, called Helyi, was 42, he drew a picture of an elleth he met at the archives, and had been greatly impressed with. He didn't have a crush on her, per se, he just thought she wrote the finest hand he'd ever seen, and was awed by her near encyclopediac knowledge of the archives. 

Neither knew, but it was the first time that Helyandur had met his oldest sibling, his sister Laureamoriel. Hiswafion saw the picture, and became enraged. He destroyed the sketch, and when that was not enough to vent his rage, he turned to helpless Helyandur. And he broke his son's hand.

Helyandur sobbed helplessly. He was a brave lad when it came to taking his punishments, but this one had broken his heart, not just his hand. Siromo defied his father for the first time in his life, to take Helyandur to a healer. Healer Isyatur had been experimenting with various substances that advanced and enhanced the healing process, and he used them, and his intricate knowledge, to set Helyandur's hand so well that it healed with no loss to Helyandur's skill. His hand would ache if he drew for days at a time, or in the dead of winter. But it was rarely that cold in Aman, and Helyandur didn't have that much time for drawing in his father's home,anyway. 

The healer Isyatur was loyal to Prince Feanaro, whom his betrothed Sendalusine and her family served. But Isyatur was also an ellon with a kind and caring heart. He told his young friend Ingloren, who told Artanis, who told Laureamoriel, of Helyandur and his broken hand. A conspiracy was hatched, and when Helyandur turned fifty years of age, he and his brother left their father's home for a day-long camping trip, and never returned. Instead, they joined their sister, and became retainers of Artanis. And Helyandur of the broken hand became known as Helyandur Golden Hand, the younger brother of Lady Artanis' Golden Scribe. Together, they would work on some of the finest illuminated manuscripts of the First Age, Laureamoriel scrivening, and Helyandur illustrating, the two so in sync that sometimes they were working on the same page at the same time, writing from top to bottom, and meeting perfectly in the middle of a word. 

Siromo was called the Lady Artanis' Stone Sword. Siromo took well to the Helcaraxe, and though some elves laughed at him, Artanis, and Ilcetiel the first time the young ellon went off hunting with the two ellith, no one laughed when they brought back a lossemorco, a great white bear of the north, on their very own. 

Helyandur did not take well to the Helcaraxe. The cold got into his bones, and he was helpless at anything that required two hands. But Helyandur was a hard worker who wanted to do his part, so he insisted on helping as much as he could. One day, as he was bringing fish back to Artanis' camp, his hand spasmed and he dropped the bucket, right in front of Lord Turucano's tent. Helyandur remembered putting his head down in shame, but the expected laughter never came. Instead, a kind, jovial voice insisted firmly, "Helyandur the artist, right?" 

Helyandur raised his wide, dark brown eyes to meet the blue eyes of a golden-haired Vanya. One of the only Vanyaran elves to have joined the exiles, Lord Turucano's friend and retainer Sir Laurefindil. 

"S..sir?" Helyandur stuttered, nervous at the attention from one of Tirion's most skilled and famed knights. 

Laurefindil smiled, and put an arm around Helyandur, and before the young artist knew what was happening, he was warmly ensconced in Laurefindil's own blankets and furs, at Lord Turucano's fire. Lord Ecthelion's younger sister Lindanelle, one of Helyandur's one-time elflinghood playmates, was plying him with hot spiced wine and seal soup. 

"You have to take care of yourself, oh great artist." Laurefindil scolded Helyandur, gentling his voice when the young elf seemed far more abashed than, say, Lindanelle or her middle brother Iranto, when he scolded them. Very carefully massaging Helyandur's scarred hand with the skill of a warrior who had seen many injuries, Laurefindil instructed, "You are no weaker than anyone else, you foolish child. You just earned your scars earlier." 

Some time later, when Helyandur's sister Laureamoriel and Laurefindil were courting, Helyandur learned that while Siromo and Laurefindil immediately found a great deal of common ground as warriors and hunters, Laurefindil was a different sort of elf than Helyi and Siri's father had been. Laurefindil respected Helyandur for his skill as an artist, and for his kindness and determination. And he loved Laureamoriel, for so many reasons that he had trouble naming them. Still, Helyandur eventually had to believe, because Laurefindil was determined to show him, that Laurefindil wanted to get to know Helyandur for Helyandur, and not just because being kind to Helyandur and Siromo was the surest way to win and keep Laureamoriel's heart. 

Helyandur also learned that, while Laurefindil would help him with anything, Helyi had in essence acquired a second older brother, and an even bossier one. While it was true that Helyandur did push himself at times, particularly to impress pretty Lindanelle, he never appreciated having Laurefindil order him to rest instead of helping to set up tents. Although there was the compensation that, as an elf who helped to sew warm winter clothing and cook dinner, Helyandur got to spend more time with Lindanelle. 

Still, there were times when a young ellon just had to ignore pain, or so Helyandur thought. When Laurefindil and Laureamoriel were first married, and they were first in Turucano's camp instead of Artanis', Turucano's guard captain and hunt master Lumbacundo did not know of Helyandur's weak hand. So he sent Helyi out with the other young ellyn to hunt, after a full day's march on the ice, and assisting in a rescue, had already left Helyandur's weak hand trembling with exhaustion and throbbing with pain. 

Helyandur was beyond shocked that Laurefindil came to fetch him. 

"It's just a little pain!" Helyandur squawked indignantly, as Laurefindil and Lord Ecthelion marched him back to camp, having left Sendoron behind to take Helyandur's place. 

Laurefindil rolled his eyes, "I know your healer, Helyi. What did Isyatur tell you to do, after using your hand to tug a full-grown elf out of the water? "

"Rest." Helyandur murmured softly. 

"That's right." Laurefindil said, his hands gently resting on Helyandur's shoulders and guiding the young elf into their tent. Before he knew it, Helyandur found his hand tended, and himself warm, comfortable, and asleep. When he woke up, it was to find his sister beside him, with quiet words about how he must be careful, and how it wasn't his fault. When Laurea left to assist Artanis, Helyandur found himself once again face to face with Laurefindil, who had more than words for him. 

It was one of the first times that Helyandur had been punished by an ellon since his cruel father. He was scared, but Laurefindil held him, and whispered reassuring words and and then dirty jokes until Helyi had stopped shuddering. Because Helyandur felt safer that way, Laurefindil went and found Siromo, so that Helyandur's older brother could hold his hands while Laurefindil spanked Helyandur for disobedience and carelessness. 

"This is because I love you, and your sister loves you, and Siri loves you," Laurefindil said, as he brought his firm hand down in sharp but not cruel smacks upon Helyandur's bare bottom, "Because we love you, and we insist that you take care of yourself." 

"It's all right, Helyi." Siromo reassured his younger brother, as he gently held Helyandur's weak hand, and firmly squeezed his good hand. 

In no time at all, Helyandur's bottom stung quite fiercely, for while Laurefindil was a very kind ellon, he was also an ellon with a very firm hand. But before Helyandur's backside was even red, when it was still just a rosy pink, with no bruises at all, Laurefindil stopped, and moved his hand to gently stroke Helyandur's back, promising, "It's all done, little brother," and praising, "You were very brave, Helyi," even though Helyandur knew he hadn't been, not really. 

Then Laurefindil and Siromo helped Helyandur to redress, and Laurefindil pulled both of his younger brothers by marriage into his arms. "Be more careful, Helyi." Laurefindil ordered, "Because I care about you. Both of you," He amended, pressing a brotherly kiss to fierce Siromo's brow as well, "Not just because your sister is my wife, but because I have taken you both to heart. You are my very own baby brothers."

And Laurefindil, who would come to be called Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, King's friend and Balrog-Slayer, would cherish his baby brothers for always. He would always remind his friends Turgon and Ecthelion when they passed under the bridge that Siromo had designed, or by a portrait that Helyandur had painted. And it was one of the proudest moments of Glorfindel's life, when Siromo was knighted for his service to King Turgon. And again, when Glorfindel's own baby brother (by marriage) Helyandur married Glorfindel's best friend Ecthelion's baby sister Lindanelle. Helyandur and Lindanelle would later present Glorfindel and Laureamoriel with their first nephew, Laurehandon. Centuries later, Glorfindel would be reunited with Laurenhandon's great-great-grandson Melpomaen, although he would not realize why Melpomaen looked so familiar for several years. And it would be Glorfindel's own grandson, Erestor, who would give Melpomaen a job as a scribe at Imladris, and later take his second cousin as an adoptive son.


	6. Helpless Moments part 4: Helpless Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Turucano (who will one day be King Turgon) thinks that his friend Laurefindil (Glorfindel) is a helpless romantic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This part begins before the sun rose, in Aman. During the Years of the Trees in the First Age, a bit less than 500 years before the sun rises, then moves to when the Noldor exile rebels were crossing the Helcaraxe. 
> 
> A/N 2: I'm using what I believe to be the Quenya terminology for blood-brothers or sworn-brothers, otorno and otornyar (plural). "Anyaro" I believe means older, "itta" means little or younger, and "pityaquen" means young one or little one.

His young friend and retainer Laurefindil was a hopeless romantic, Lord Turucano decided. Laurefindil could no more see an elleth in distress, any kind of distress, and not try to help, then he could...pass up a good ale, or a duel. 

"Hand me the hem of your cloak, Ecthelion, and be ready to catch him in case he falls." Turcano said resignedly to his cousin and friend, as Laurefindil moved into the spindly upper-most branches of the gigantic oak in Artanis' garden. 

Ecthelion quickly obeyed, and he and Turucano held the cloak out, ready to use it to catch their idiot titta otorno. 

Their anyaro otorno Sendoron said with concern, "When he gets down, I'm going to..." 

"Laure won't get in trouble for helping Sugar Paws, will he?" Thirty-nine year old elfling Ambaraxiel asked worriedly. 

Turucano and Ecthelion gave their older sworn brother a look, to remind him that it would be inappropriate to upset an elfling, let alone the daughter of one of Nolofinwe's and Arafinwe's good friends. 

"Ah..." Sendoron wasn't sure what to say, and the whole party tensed as Laurefindil's hand slipped, and he swung by just one limb for a moment. Then he righted himself, grinning down at Ambaraxiel and his friends. 

"Hurry it up, pityaquen." Turucano ordered with an exasperated, worried grin. "We need to have a talk." 

"Oh, like THAT's going to make me hurry." Laurefindil muttered, grinning as he scooped Ambaraxiel's white, fluffy kitten into his arms. 

Turucano held his breath as Laurefindil climbed down the tree one handed, his other hand securing the kitten safely inside his tunic. 

"Oh, thank you, Laurefindil!" Ambaraxiel said in relief, gratefully accepting her kitten, and taking Sugar Paws inside for a well-earned bath. 

"Ellith and elflings," Ecthelion said with asperity, smacking Laurefindil's bottom smartly in admonishment, "You can't help but be their champion, oh Knight of the Golden Flower." The last being a reference both to Laurefindil's name, which meant golden hair, and to how he had championed an elleth whose betrothed had broken off their engagement at the last tournament, giving that elleth the golden flower he had earned for coming in second at the tourney.

 

So many ellith sighed after Laurefindil, even though he was only a newly-made knight of no house...well, no known house, although Turucano recognized in his friend the features of a disowned Lady of the realm. Still, that was a carefully guarded secret, and yet the ladies still followed after Laurefindil like brightly colored hummingbirds after an exotic blossom. But Laurefindil took no note of them, save to be gallantly polite and kind, as was his nature. No, Laurefindil was helplessly, hopelessly, in love with one of the Lady Artanis' handmaidens, and had been for centuries. Sadly, the lady in question- Artanis' Golden Scribe, Laureamoriel, was so in love with her books and scrolls, and dedicated to her lady, that she took no notice of any ellyn. Poor Laurefindil.

After they left Aman with the rebels and started to cross the ice, Turucano had a new worry, with respect to the youngest of his dear friends. Specifically, that Laurefindil refused to let anyone drown, if he could in anyway save them. Laurefindil had nearly drowned three times, already. The fourth time Laurefindil nearly slipped under the ice himself because of a rescue, Turucano was furious. That time, it had been just to save a horse! What had Laurefindil been thinking?

Laurefindil absorbed the lecture without even his normal apologetic expression. Instead, he seemed so happy that Turucano's angry words and planned punishment and unpleasant chores were having barely any impact on him at all.

"Are you even listening, titta otorno?" Turucano asked at last, in loving exasperation.

"Turu," Laurefindil replied, his eyes alight with happiness, "I'm sorry that I upset you...but I saved her horse, and she asked me for my name! Laureamoriel knows my name...and she thanked me for saving her horse!"

Turucano groaned, and did his very best to make sure that Laurefindil would not risk death to save anyone's horse, even if it be Turucano's or Laureamoriel's. Even if Laureamoriel did, finally, know Laurefindil's name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turucano and the younger Glorfindel also appear in the second to last chapter of "And Where Do You Think that You're Going?" Lady Ambaraxiel appears in "This Isn't Where I Left my Horse" in "Tales of the Elves of the Greenwood."


	7. Helpless Moments part 5: Helpless Laughter and Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laureamoriel's husband is an entirely different type of elf than her father. And even in the Fourth Age, Glorfindel's advice to his students who come across men beating women is the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The first part of this story takes place on the Helecaraxe, the epilogue takes place in the Fourth Age.

The way across the Helecaraxe was cold, and bitter, and long. But it was joyful, too, or at least it was for Laureamoriel, who fell in love with and then married Laurefindil, a knight of Prince Turucano.

But there were dark days, even for Laureamoriel. On one of them, she came across one of Prince Nolofinwe’s elves beating his wife.

Laureamoriel punched him. He stopped beating his wife, but she’d barely bloodied his nose. He raised his fist to her, and screamed that he was going to kill her, that ellith who hit ellyn would be lucky if their husbands left them able to walk.

Then Laurefindil was there, and Laureamoriel was facing him, and all of her own old elflinghood fears. But Laurefindil just squeezed her shoulder gently, as if she was one of his young soldiers who had done well, and said, "I'm disappointed in you, my dear wife."

Tears came to Laureamoriel's eyes, and she gasped, "I...I couldn't let him keep hitting her!"

Laurefindil pulled her gently into his arms, and said softly, "Oh, oh no. No, Laurea, Laurea-my-love, I didn't mean that I was upset at you for hitting him to stop him! Never that! No, I'm upset because you didn't hit him hard enough. Nelya, be a good little mongoose, and show Laurea-my-love how one is supposed to punch a wife-beating elf, if that fool makes a move towards her or us again.”

The fool did. Ecthelion's baby sister Lindanelle knocked him top over teakettle. He lay on the ice, dazed.

Lindanelle kindly advised Laureamoriel, "Harder, Laurea. You hit ellyn who hit ellith, harder."

Laureamoriel knew it wasn't funny, but she was just so relieved...she collapsed in helpless laughter. Fortunately, she had herself mostly under control by the time Prince Turucano was summoned to the site of the disturbance.

Turucano was widely known for being willing to forgive his favorites, such as Laurefindil, practically anything. Besides that, he had sworn to the Lady Artanis, Laureamoriel’s former mistress, that he would protect her golden scribe, no matter what may come.

But in this case none of that was needed to move the Prince to mercy for Laureamoriel’s infraction, and harshness for the offending ellon’s. Turucano had just lost his beloved wife, to the ice, and here this fool was, beating his. The ellon was disciplined, and sternly warned against harming his wife. She was protected, and moved to the service of the baby Princess Idril.

Epilogue: 

“’Tis no wonder, then, that Uncle Glorfindel has no patience for men who would harm women!” Remarked Kader.

“Aye, and he hates just as much any who would abuse any of lesser strength, especially children.” Explained Elion, “He saw to it personally that all of those who hurt cousin Melpoamen were punished, forced to sail in the company of guards who would take them to justice in the West. He took especial offense to not having been able to prevent the suffering of his many-times great-nephew.”

“I did indeed, my children.” Glorfindel agreed, having entered unseen during the course of Elion’s story.

“Uncle Glorfindel!” Exclaimed both princes, while the royal lord Ecthelion frowned at the Balrog-slayer.

“We’re not allowed to climb in through the balcony.” He said reprovingly to Glorfindel, who had to laugh.

“Elion, guren, if you improve your balance and upper arm strength to the point where climbing in through the balcony is even an option for you, I will personally see to it that it is put on the table.”

The golden highlights in the young lord’s brown hair glinted in the lamplight as he smiled, “I think you’ll have to run that one by Daerada, first.”

“I have my ways.” Said Glorfindel, who could remember when Aragorn would not have hesitated to get into even more trouble than his three grandsons had found this evening. Shooing the three youths aside so that he had space to sit betwixt them on the bed, Glorfindel looked at each in turn, then began, “Who wants to explain what could have gone better earlier this evening?”

“We could have not snuck out to go to a party.” Elros offered, rubbing his sore backside again. 

“He’s talking about the fight, gwador.” Said Elion, frowning.

“Oh.” Said Eldarion’s twin sons, who paused to think about that.

“I didn’t move around the back of the robber when Elros told me to.” Kader confessed, “Because I wanted to hit the foul villain in his stupid face.”

Glorfindel successfully fought the urge to laugh, and instead nodded sagely. “A momentary satisfaction is never worth sacrificing the safety or success of a maneuver. Someone should have stayed alert to the possibility of your quarry running away in that direction, or, worse, reinforcements, if he had been only one of a group.”

The Balrog-slayer’s eyes moved to Elion, and he lifted a single eyebrow.

The apprentice healer sighed. “I slipped up and nearly tripped when he tried to run, then I overextended and missed his dagger.”

“And….”

“And one of us should have run to the bell at the end of the street, to ring for aid.” Elros added. “Elion should have thought of it, because he’s the oldest….”

“Thanks, Elros.” Said that worthy sarcastically.

“But it probably should have been me who ran to the bell, because Kader wouldn’t have listened and Elion is the biggest, even though both Kader and I are better fighters.”

“A good summary, Elros. We’ll work on it.” Said Glorfindel, surveying all three of his King’s distant heirs with favor and affection.

Eldarion’s twin sons looked extremely pleased with the prospect of being the focus of Glorfindel’s attention for the next several weeks. Elion sighed.

“You’re mine, too, sunshine.” Glorfindel told him, pausing to bat the youth’s head gently. “Your brother has agreed. Just because your father and mother have permitted you to train only as a healer, doesn’t mean that you won’t satisfy me – and your grandfather – as to your ability to defend yourself.”

“Yes, Sir.” Said Elion, still a bit downcast. Then he brightened, “If my efforts please you, will you tell us stories?”

“What, there are stories that I have to tell that your sister and her husband haven’t already told you?” Glorfindel asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Some.” Said Elion cheekily. “She gets most of her stories from Erestor, and Theli gets his from Uncles Elladan and Elrohir, and none of them have heard the story of how you first found out that Erestor was your grandson, and that his father Arandil had survived the Fall of Gondolin.”

Glorfindel silently blessed Faramir and Eowyn’s youngest child for asking for that story, and not one of the ones that he still had trouble speaking of. Elion likely knew what he’d been about – he usually did – so Glorfindel gathered him up under one arm, and the twins under his other, and told them that story, on credit.


	8. Dark Beauty, Dark Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of the first meeting of the elf Sinyefal and his future wife Faenglorien, a handmaiden of the Lady Artanis (better known as the Lady Galadriel), as told to the Princes of Rohan and the Lady Haleth, the King's Granddaughter and the daughter of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, during the Fourth Age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was written years ago, and I am just posting it now because I'd forgotten to post it then. I am posting it without much in the way of revision. 
> 
> Mostly I am trying to keep the DH AU roughly compliant with book canon except for certain deviations as explained, but my muse is absolutely enchanted by the idea of the elves of Lothlorien coming to the aid of the Rohirrim at Helm's Deep. However, the muse is sure it was Rumil who led these elves, and that he was injured, but survived without permanent harm. Rumil so enjoyed his time with the Riders of Rohan that he returned after his mother sailed, and has dwelt mainly with Eomer-King and his family since then. With Rumil is his guard and friend, the elven warrior Faronglas.
> 
> Quote: 
> 
> "We are defined by how we use our power." ~ Gerry Spence

Prologue: F.A. Year 17 or 18 (or thereabouts)

A camp fire crackled merrily on the plains of Rohan, bright against the surrounding darkness of a summer night. A hunting party led by Captain Frea, a Rider of Rohan, gathered around the blaze, sharing fresh-caught game birds with the Rohirrim who camped permanently in the fields with the horses. As the hunt had been successful, and the youngsters along had shown themselves to be capable, and most importantly careful, despite their excitement, the men of Rohan's horse camps and the Riders were rewarding their young Princes and their cousin, Lady Haleth, the King of Gondor's Granddaughter, with songs and stories. 

"And the ghost horse galloped off into the darkness to the music of his rider's screams, never to be seen again." Rider Barden finished, in a suitably solemn voice. 

Ten year old Prince Theodred inched closer to his elder brother, Prince Elfwine, Eomer's twelve year old firstborn son and heir. The two young Princes of Rohan were brave lads and promising young warriors, but they would be sleeping under the stars that night, surrounded by unfamiliar horses. Some of whom had periodically come to whuffle their caretakers and the visitors gathered around the campfire, curious to see if the two-foots had any goodies hidden in their pockets. 

Who knew what could happen during the darkest hours of the night, if one of these seemingly friendly horses became a ghost horse after midnight, the two princes wondered. 

Elfwine put an arm around his brother. "Captain Frea, the ghost horse doesn't really take his riders away forever, does he?" He asked solemnly, "Not if the riders are kind to him, right?" 

"Ah," commented Captain Frea mildly, with a reproving glance directed at his subordinate Barden, "Well, no, the ghost horse always carries the rider off to his probable death, that's the story, my Prince. But it is just a tale." 

The two princes looked less than reassured, and their uncle rolled his eyes before stating mildly. "I'm sure, nephews, that if a rider were truly kind to the ghost horse, its equine heart would be won over." Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, son of the King, Steward of Gondor, continued confidently. "You are the Children of Eorl, my nephews. As such, the Mearas permit you to ride them, as your aunt my wife so often reminds my Adar and I. Personally, I doubt that a ghost horse would be much of a challenge."

Elfwine and Theodred relaxed a bit, and their cousin Haleth grinned at them from across the fire, where she reclined comfortably in her father's safe arms. The tale of the ghost horse hadn't bothered her so much, perhaps because she was a girl, and at eleven years of age not too old to rest her head on her father's shoulder, comforted by the familiar lullaby of his heartbeat, and his hand that gently squeezed her own in reassurance. Into the silence broken only by the cheerful crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind over the plains, Haleth asked, "Is it my turn to choose the story?" 

"It is." Her father confirmed, casting his eleven year old youngest daughter a pleading look, "but, ah, perhaps a change of theme, iel-nin?" Faramir did not wish to be up in the night, soothing younglings awaking from nightmares. 

Haleth ducked her head to hide a smile from her cousins, who were looking to her expectantly. When she first came to stay with them again, a season ago, they would have been afraid that Haleth would ask for some womanish tale of romance. Now that they knew her better, they were waiting to hear her request with wide-eyed interest, thoroughly distracted from their earlier fright. 

"I'd like to know how you came to be here, Faronglas." Haleth asked her elven cousin Rumil's friend and guard charmingly, "Here as in Middle Earth, instead of in the Undying Lands. And how it is that a dark-haired, dark-eyed Noldorin elf with a Quenya name came to serve a Sinda Lord such as Daerada Celeborn." 

Faronglas Sinyefalion looked at Rumil's young human cousin in interest,"You've spent a lot of time with elves, Lady Haleth." 

"Some." The slender blond admitted, "but it is more that I have an older sister who loves everything that's ever been written about elves, and a family friend in Lord Erestor who believes firmly in encouraging Mithiriel's obsessive-compulsive knowledge accumulation." 

Faramir rolled his eyes, and kissed the top of his daughter's tawny golden head. "Softly, miel-neth-nin. Your middle sister does hoard knowledge like a dragon does treasure, but she is not here to defend herself, after all." 

"Rumil?" Faronglas inquired, uncertainty visible on his handsome features, to those who knew elves well. 

"I think it would be fine, Faronglas." Rumil answered, going to sit next to Theodred, who made room so that their elven cousin was seated between the two princes of Rohan. 

"Very well, my young friends," Faronglas began, "This story, is, in fact, a love story," Faronglas paused theatrically, while the princes groaned, "but not a usual one. It is a love story set against the backdrop of a terrible massacre." 

The Princes brightened at the prospect of a battle story, though Faramir's eyes, the same shade of gray as his daughter's, saddened. Rumil met his cousin's eyes across the fire, and the two of them shared a look that Haleth could not interpret. Then Faronglas began his tale, the story of how his parents had met, long long ago in the undying lands. 

Year of the Trees 1495, Alqualonde, in the Undying Lands 

Sinyefal was born an elf of the Lindar, who some call the Teleri, in Valinor. He grew to be a shipwright and fisher amongst that sea-faring folk, and he dwelt in Alqualonde, where the undying lands met the sea.

Sinyefal met his one true love during the tragedy of the first kin-slaying at Alqualonde. The same week he lost a brother and an aunt. He had cousins and friends among the fallen, as well. 

But no one knew that the coming of the Noldorin rebels to Alqualonde would end in blood. Well, at least no one except perhaps Feanaro and several of his sons, and their followers. In later years, that exiled Prince would come to be called Feanor, and his sons would develop an unsavory reputation. But this was before the term "sons of Feanor" had become an epithet. 

Sinyefal's future wife was beautiful, dark haired and dark-eyed. But most did not even notice her, for she stood by the side of the luminous, exquisite Lady Artanis, whose hair shone with the light of the two trees. It was not Artanis' intention, but she eclipsed all those who were nearest her.

Sinyefal saw his dark beauty, even so. And wondered who she was, to stand at the side of such a great lady as Artanis, the only elleth amongst the leaders of the rebel Noldor. Artanis was the daughter of Prince Arafinwe (later to be called King Finarfin) and the Princess Earwen, who was herself the daughter of Sinyefal's King, Olwe the King of the Lindar. Artanis, who would in time be called the Lady Galadriel, would later rule beside her husband in Harlindon, Evendim, Eregion, and finally Lothlorien. Galadriel would later be called aunt by Lady Elwing, Aran Ereinion, Aran Amdir and Lord Elrond. She would also later at times call herself simply "Celebrian's mother," and "the grandmother of Celebrian and Elrond's children." 

But in those days she was merely the Lady Artanis, granddaughter of King Finwe, and she was wary of her uncle, Prince Feanaro, whom she had never trusted, or liked. Artanis' beautiful face was worried, but it was clear that even she did not think that Feanaro's threats of violence were serious, until the lovely dark-haired elleth leaned towards her mistress. 

"He means to do it, 'Tani," the dark beauty had said softly, urgently, to Artanis.

The sons of Feanaro drew their swords at their father's command, all except Nelyafinwe, called Maitimo, who protested. It would be Nelyafinwe, later to be called Maedhros, who would in time forsake his family's right to the title of High King of the Noldor on Middle Earth, in favor of his father's half-brothers and and their children. Maedhros would later search for Dior's sons after the kin-slaying at Doriath, and later still allow his younger brother Canafinwe, better known as Macaulaure or Maglor, to give shelter to Elwing's twin sons Elros and Elrond. And Maglor himself, much later, would come to be known as Belegaeron. 

But that would be later. On the dark day the Kin-slaying at Alqualonde began, even Nelyafinwe hardened his heart and prepared to follow his father's lead.

Then Artanis stepped in front of Feanaro. "No," she denied firmly, a slender figure clearly overmatched in might, but not in pride or greatness.

"Stand aside, Artanis." Feanaro thundered, "These Teleri will give us ships to sail after my father's killer, or they will die themselves."

"This cannot be, uncle." Artanis denied, "The Lindar are merely following the will of the Valar."

Feanaro laughed bitterly. "The Valar are wrong. You followed me here. Surely even you agree that something must be done about Morgoth?"

Artanis raised her chin valiantly. "I followed you, and I will follow you all the way to Middle Earth. But we must find some other way. The ships belong to the Lindar, and the first-born must not slay eachother. The Valar would weep."

"These cowardly Teleri are still elves, they will be reborn, in time." Feanor said dismissively, "Now, stand aside, niece, or I will strike you down, my half-brother Arafinwe's daughter or no."

Part of Sinyefal was horrified, for the Noldorin elves whom they had welcomed as friends were raising naked blades, threatening his people the Lindar. But part of him was even more afraid in that moment for slim, lovely, Artanis, and her brave handmaidens and armed retainers, who stood by her side. And especially for the dark-haired beauty. 

"You must not." Artanis repeated, and stood her ground. The dark beauty stood behind her lady, and though some of the Lady's servants paled with fright, none took even a single step away.

Feanaro raised his gauntleted hand, and struck Artanis down. Stunned, the Lady fell to the ground, her handmaidens going to her side, as her several armed retainers raised their swords to protect their fallen lady. But the sons of Feanor did not wish further harm to Artanis, their focus was on Sinyefal, and his people, and the ships they would not share. Sinyefal was soon fighting for his life, and the lives of those he loved.

Sinyefal did not see the beautiful dark-haired elleth or the Lady Artanis again until some time after the fighting had ended. Lady Artanis' later-arriving brothers were helping the Lindar survivors, horrified that their own cousins and half-uncle had attacked the blameless Lindar. Artanis' father, Arafinwe, who later came be called Finarfin, and his sons had arrived late at Alqualonde, too late to do anything to stop the madness. The sons of Feanaro would later take their stolen ships, and set out on their quest. None of them save Nelyafinwe and Canafinwe would even show remorse for their crimes, at least not that Sinyefal ever heard.

But back in Alqualonde, the Lindar were struggling to recover. Lady Artanis' father, Prince Arafinwe, chose to return to Tirion at Mandos' warning that those who continued the trek against the will of the Valar would be exiled from the undying lands, but his sons would not turn back. They and their sister Artanis were determined to follow their cousins, the children of Prince Nolofinwe, on the perilous journey to Middle Earth. Nolofinwe would later be known as Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor on Middle Earth, and his sons, Findecano and Turucano, as the High Kings Fingon and Turgon after him. 

But that would be later. Then, they were all rebels and exiles, who still planned to follow Feanaro to Middle Earth. And Sinyefal and his people did not trust them, not any of them. 

Sinyefal had been a sailor, but now he lacked his ship and the rest of his crew. There were so many dead and injured, that the healers were accepting any able-bodied assistants. Sinyefal was working with the healers, moving from injured elf to injured elf, when he looked up from cleaning a shallow wound on the shoulder of a handsome young Noldo. The youthful soldier was one of the retainers who had guarded the Lady Artanis, and he had been wounded trying to help a lost Lindarin child find his parents, by several young Lindarin sailors who did not know him for one of the "good" Noldor. None of the other healers would help the young Noldo soldier, but Sinyefal remembered him, and how Artanis' elves had stood against Feanaro, despite their own danger. Sinyefal carefully cleaned the young ellon's wound, being as gentle as possible. When he was done, a lovely voice thanked him, and he looked up to see his dark beauty, her spirited eyes fixed on his face.

"I am Faenglorien," She said, "thank you for helping my young cousin Helyandur."

"I am Sinyefal," he replied. "And I am at your service, my Lady. Anything I can do for you, I shall. You have but to name it."

Faenglorien's cousin Helyandur, who had previously been quietly grateful for Sinyefal's steady, careful hands, now glared at his healer. In that moment, Sinyefal realized that Helyandur, or Helyi, as he would come to call his love's cousin, was very young, indeed. Barely more than an elfling. But still protective of his cousin Faenglorien whom Sinyefal had fallen in love with. Young Helyandur was distrustful of such an open pledge of support from one of the Lindarin elves who had been so angry with the Noldor, even the Noldor who had supported Artanis, who had tried to stop Feanaro. One Noldo elf looked much like another to many of his people, Sinyefal supposed, but he could never see them that way again, for his love, his Faenglorien, was Noldorin.

"I am at your service as well," Faenglorien answered Sinyefal with a beguilingly mysterious smile, "for we are to wed, and shall never be lonely again, either of us, as long as we are together."

Sinyefal's heart leapt in joy, and he took his love's offered hand. The two stared rapturously into one another's eyes for a moment or an hour, until they were interrupted by the sound of bickering voices. 

Sinyefal looked away from his future bride to see the Lady Artanis herself, a bandage wrapped around her slender neck, having a loud discussion with another golden-haired elf who looked like enough unto her to be her brother, which he in fact was. The Lord Findarato, later Finrod Felagund, King of Nargothrond, the first elf to befriend Men, companion to the human heroes Beor, Barahir, and Beren. 

But that would come later. At that moment, Findarato was just an overprotective older brother. And the Lady Artanis did not seem to appreciate the concern. 

"Fuss, fuss, fuss, Finda!" She scolded her brother, "You are worse than Niniel." 

One of the ellith accompanying the Lady Artanis, a pleasantly attractive maternal-looking elleth with a stern expression on her face, snorted lightly at that, and muttered something which sounded like, "Someone has to look after all of you children, my lady. Prince Nolofinwe surely isn't up to the task." 

One of the elves following Artanis, a concerned young ellon bearing a sword, hid a smile at the older retainer's gripe, but his eyes were searching for something. When he saw Sinyefal's young patient, he rushed over, trailed by the Lady Artanis, her "fussing" brother, and the rest of her retinue. 

"Helyi!" The young ellon scolded, "I told you not to wander about alone!"

"I wasn't alone, Siromo." Helyandur protested, "I was with cousin Celfinion, but he saw an injured sea bird, and wandered off, and then I heard an elfling crying, and . . ." 

"It was a mix-up." Faenglorien defended her youngest cousin to his older brother, "Not a deliberate attempt to be careless, Siri. Calm down, all is well." 

Lady Artanis, relieved at seeing her young retainer in one piece, turned to thank Sinyefal. He was awed at her beauty, but not struck dumb. He told the great Lady her thanks were unnecessary, but his eyes always strayed back to Faenglorien. 

Artanis, observing this, smiled, and Sinyefal marveled all the more at how lovely she was, though Faenglorien, to him, was yet more appealing. But even Findarato seemed softened by his sister's smile. 

"Sinyefal and I are to be married." Faenglorien informed her lady. 

"Congratulations, and be welcome, love of my sworn sister." Artanis said kindly to Sinyefal. "I am sorry that the days in which you came to know of your love for one another are so dark." 

"Wonderful," Lord Findarato argued, "Faenglorien is in love, and you should all STAY HERE. Anatar Olwe has said that you and yours might. Or better yet, go back to Tirion with Atar, as you allowed him to believe that you would." 

Artanis' smile faded, and she snapped, "If Atar looked at Ilcetiel in the retinue of returning elves, and saw me, that is not my fault, Finda." Unspoken, that if Arafinwe could not tell his daughter from another blond elleth, maybe he deserved to be misled into thinking that Artanis meant to return with him. 

"I looked at Ilcetiel, riding away in Atar's vanguard, and saw you!" Finda retorted heatedly, "She was wearing your cloak, and your scribe Laureamoriel rode at her side! Moreover, of all the ellith who came with us to this place, she and you alone are fair of hair and carry swords as a matter of course!"

"Ilcetiel used her own cloak to grant one of our mother's fallen kinsmen a death shroud, so I let her borrow mine. And she is only returning to bid farewell to her parents. Laureamoriel went with her for moral support. They will catch us up, probably before we leave Alqualonde. Laureamoriel would never leave her brothers, either." Artanis explained, refusing to rise to the bait of her brother's scolding.

Prince Findarato mumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath about younger siblings and ellith, before accusing Artanis of breaking their parents' hearts.

"They like not you and my brothers going to Middle Earth, neither." Artanis responded calmly, before adding, "Besides, mother knew that I intended to go. She bid me keep an eye on all of my noble brothers, and told me that she had named me rightly." Princess Earwen had also told her daughter that she loved all of her children, no matter that they had chosen exile, but Artanis thought that probably went without saying. 

Lord Findarato paused for a moment in thought. Artanis' mother-name, Nerwen, meant man-maiden. Artanis was very tall for an elleth, and strong and athletic besides. But still, "This trek will be dangerous, 'Tani. It is no place for an elleth." 

Artanis, losing her patience again, replied heatedly, "I have the same heritage from our mother that you do, Finda, the same love of the sea, and dreams of far lands that we have never seen. More, I have seen that it is my path. Am I to be denied merely for an accident of gender?"

The two golden-haired siblings, the fairest of Arafinwe and Earwen's children, squared off against eachother, and Sinyefal wasn't sure what to do. Bickering royals were a bit out of his experience. Faenglorien took his hand. 

"Ah, my Lady?" A soft, amused, but still somewhat firm voice interrupted, "Perhaps you and Lord Findarato should finish this discussion somewhere less public. Or at least recognize that he is is only upset because he is worried for you, and cares for you. And that he will be grateful for your company even though he wishes you would stay. And that since you are going, he would rather have you and yours travel with his party." The speaker was another lovely dark-haired elleth, this one more delicate in appearance than Faenglorien. 

The two siblings looked at one another, considering that for a moment. 

"My cousin, Laureamoriel, Helyandur and Siromo's elder sister." Faenglorien told Sinyefal, explaining further, "The blond elleth with the sword beside her is Ilcetiel, our Lady's elf of business and one of her guards." 

At length, Findarato said to his sister in a firm but loving tone of voice, "As I cannot convince you otherwise, I will demand that you listen to me and your brothers, and travel with our soldiers. You've not enough of your own." 

Artanis, perhaps realizing that there were limits in how far even she dared push her eldest brother, conceded with becoming grace, "I will be pleased to have me and mine travel by your side, Finda. But all of my elves can bear a sword, and I can as well." 

Findarato grinned, and leaned forward to bestow a brotherly kiss on his sister's luminous head. "You have spent too much time on your other pursuits, and are not yet well enough trained, my fierce sister. We will remedy that, at least, on this trek," Findarato promised, thinking that it would be easier to train Artanis away from his parents, who disapproved. Then Findarato thought of how shocked Arafinwe would be to discover that his daughter had left with his sons, and shook his head. "I do love you, little sister, but I pity the poor ellon who marries you" 

Artanis, a little offended, said softly, "Just because Amarie will not come, is no reason to take out your frustration on me." But she offered her brother her hand in sympathy. Amarie was a kind and lovely elleth of Vanyarin heritage, and she could not defy the Valar to follow Findarato. She also worked with elflings who had lost their parents, a rare event but one that happened, even in Aman. Amarie was one of the few elves to develop a good rapport with the elfling orphans, and she was reluctant to leave her charges, even had her father and her King not forbade her to go. And Amarie was not like Artanis, to leave even though her father had refused his permission. But for all of that Artanis had come to respect Amarie, for her unflinching dedication to the orphaned elflings she championed, and to Findarato, whom they both adored.

Findarato sighed, and pulled his sister into an embrace. Half apology, half refusal to admit he was wrong. He did not speak of Amarie, it would be centuries before he would be able to, and he would never love another. But he did say softly, "I am sorry for my harsh words, but I worry for you. And when your wound is healed, I will have an accounting of you. Standing weaponless in front of our uncle was a terribly foolish, reckless thing to do." 

Artanis returned the embrace but quickly pulled away and retorted, "You would have done the same thing, had you been here, and I late in arriving." 

Finda began to heatedly disagree, "I would have had a sword," before pausing, and more honestly conceding, "No, I would have been taken by complete surprise, which you were not, thanks to Faen. but you must have a greater care, 'Tani. You could have been killed. Our parents will be so worried, when they hear. Please, will you not go home to Atar?"

As their party made ready to depart, a bewildered Sinyefal now in their midst, Artanis replied firmly, "No. Just because something terrible happened doesn't mean that good still cannot come of this journey." 

Shocked and astonished at that brisk summary of the tragedy, Sinyefal quietly asked Faenglorien if her mistress knew what she had just said.

Faenglorien blinked, and asked, " What do you mean, my new-found love?"

They were walking to the rear of Artanis' retinue, by Helyandur, who had decided to give Sinyefal the benefit of the doubt, for now, and a suspicious Siromo. 

Helyandur helpfully explained to Sinyefal, "Cousin Faen and our Lady, they, ah, they don't think like normal elves. They see things we can't, but not things that are obvious to us sometimes, if that makes sense."

Siromo, more pithily, summarized, "Artanis has no idea that you might take offense at that. Best not to."

In the days that followed, Sinyefal spent every waking moment with his newly found love Faenglorien. He learned of her past, as Artanis' teacher, then Artanis' student and retainer, and of her key position in Artanis' household. Faenglorien also a student of the Vala Yavanna, and had been one of Artanis' first teachers in the art of prophecy. When Artanis' skill and experience as a seeress had quickly grown to exceed Faenglorien's own, Faenglorien had with good humor declared her former student her new mistress, and come to be one of Artanis' first retainers. Others followed, ellith and ellyn who also studied with Yavanna or Aule, and sometimes their family members. Ellith who interested in paths more traditionally reserved for ellyn would come to Artanis, and ask for her help. Artanis was the only one of King Finwe's granddaughters to have established her own household and retinue before marriage, and when she left to join the Noldor exile rebels, the only female to stand a leader amongst them, she left behind a business empire. Sinyefal learned that Artanis had bequeathed her town home and control of her myriad mercantile and scholarly interests upon Inglaurel, a friend of Artanis who would later come to Middle Earth with the Host of the Valar, and who would come to be called Lord Ingloren, chief of the alchemists of Imladris. 

Sinyefal came to know Faenglorien's family and friend who also served the Lady Artanis quite well in those early days, as the exiles prepared for and began their journey. There was Laureamoriel, Faenglorien's cousin and the older sister of Siromo and Helyandur. Laureamoriel had accompanied Artanis' swordswoman Ilcetiel home to bid farewell to her parents. Normally, Laureamoriel stood by her Lady's other side, next to Faenglorien, and helped translate the world for Artanis, and Artanis for the world.. Laureamoriel, the golden scribe, had a gilded tongue and a way of presenting even the worst news such that it was motivating rather than debilitating. Sinyefal's family even came to be fond of Laureamoriel, Noldo though she was. Laureamoriel would one day marry Glorfindel, who would later be Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, and later still, reborn balrog-slayer and guard to Elrond Peredhel. 

Laureamoriel was otherwise busy with her brothers, whom Sinyefal quite personally felt were rather young for this journey. But they were determined to go, and Faenglorien and Artanis both said that it might be for the best. Siromo was a young warrior, although he was also intrigued by how anything worked. Siromo and Sinyefal spent much time discussing the mechanics of ship building, although Siromo was more interested by how great structures could be built underground, or into the sides of mountains, working with the countours of the natural foritfication rather than against them. Helyandur was an artist, but he, too, carried a sword, though he had not his brother's ease in learning new techniques for wielding it. Helyandur and Laureamoriel frequently worked together, Laureamoriel developing the idea for a manuscript, and Helyandur illustrating it, and both working to finish the scrivening, if they were under time constraint. They would end in the middle of the page, sometimes in the middle of a word, and it was impossible to tell that two elves instead of one had created the work of art. Sinyefal's older sister, a scribe herself in service to King Olwe, had never seen a like feat. Several of the books written by Laureamoriel and illustrated by Helyandur would later be saved from Gondolin by the very young Lord Earendil, who favored them among all of his parents' belongings, and stuck them in his mother's pack when they fled away from the hidden city. Arandil, Laureamoriel's and Glorfindel's son who served Earendil's family, retrieved those books from Earendil's home after the Kin-slaying at Sirion, and returned them to a young Elrond and Elros, later.

Sinyefal also came to know Celfinion, Faenglorien's brother who was an animal doctor. Since Sinyefal had left his trade behind, Faenglorien's brother began teaching Sinyefal about healing. Sinyefal became a capable healer in time, although he used to worry his patients when he first started treating them. Sinyefal would always start an exam by saying, as his trainer Faenglorien's brother Celfinion always did, "well, for a horse I'd do this, so for an elf I should do that." 

Sinyefal's family was heart-broken to see their only remaining son depart with his new Noldorin bride across the Helecaraxe. The grinding ice was known to be treacherous, but Sinyefal's Faenglorien would not leave her Lady. And Artanis was determined to set out on the journey. And Sinyefal would not leave Faenglorien; they would be married a year to the day, of the day they first met. 

Sinyefal shared in hundreds of years with Faenglorien a thousand joys and sorrows, and never regretted his decision to marry her and follow her. Their only child, a son Faronglas, was born in Doriath. Faenglorien fell defending her lady during the War of Wrath. Sinyefal sailed back to the undying lands at the beginning of the Second Age, to wait for his Faenglorien to be reborn, and for their son to join them in the west.

Faronglas wasn't ready to sail after the War of Wrath, and neither was his uncle Celfinion, or their friend Sendoron, despite having lost his wife Ilcetiel. So Faronglas and his family and friends bided in Lindon with Celeborn and Galadriel, then followed them to Evendim, Khazad-dum, Eregion, and Lothlorien in turn. Then to the battle of the Last Alliance with Celeborn, where Faronglas' uncle Celfinion died. Faronglas had planned to sail then, as soon as Celeborn and Galadriel recovered from the loss of their kinsmen Amdir, Ereinion, and Oropher, and saw that their young kinsmen the new Kings of Lothlorien and the Greenwood were settled. 

Then Rumil and his brothers came to live with Lady Galadirel and Lord Celeborn. It was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. So temporary that Lord Celeborn arrived home from his work as one of Aran Amdir's advisors to find the three of them missing, run away. That shocked Celeborn back into the realization that he had something left to lose, and then he and Lady Galadriel adopted all three of the brothers. And life hasn't been boring, not once, for Faronglas, since then. 

Epilogue - F.A. Year 17, back on the plains of Rohan

Faronglas concluded, quietly, with a fond smile for his young Lord. "My mother named me hunter after joy, and Rumil's mother's nickname for him was "joyful heart," so my Lady Galadriel said that I should stay to keep an eye, on this one."

By the look on Rumil's face, it seemed that he was unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, "By this point, Faron, I really can take care of myself, you know," Rumil settled on saying. 

Princes Elfwine and Theodred listened, wide-eyed, and quite sure that their friend was quite a great warrior. 

Faronglas replied with a teasing grin, "Oh, I know, hir dithen nin. But I have no family left here, and it gives me joy to bide with the adopted son of my Lord and Lady, their distant cousin, and my friend."

The two elves smiled at one another, centuries of friendship culminating in a moment of harmony.

Prince Elfwine waited a moment, then asked with polite interest, "You ran away from home, cousin Ru? Did you get in really big trouble?" 

Rumil chuckled, and answered, "Well, yes and no, little cousin. Lord Celeborn - before he became our adar, but still - had been very, very worried. He spanked me, and Naneth and my new muinthel Celebrian did as well, but not that hard. I wasn't actually in that much trouble. It was my older brothers' idea to run away, you see. I had tried to talk them out of it, and then left a note telling Celeborn, Galadriel and Celbrian where we were going." 

Theodred complained, "I'm glad that you didn't get in too much trouble, but that's just not fair. I always get in almost as much trouble as Elfwine for following him. No offense, Elfwine," Theodred reassured his older brother, "I like playing with you, and it's worth getting in trouble sometimes. But nobody ever buys that excuse."

Elfwine grinned at his younger brother, "That's because you're usually the instigator." He observed wisely.

Rumil smoothly broke up the ensuing brotherly tussle with the ease of long practice, explaining, "Haldir was thirty years older than I, and Orophin was almost twenty years older. I was accustomed to obeying them, and they should have known better."

The Princes' eyes widened in surprise, and Theodred commented, "Oh, that makes sense then. It would have been like us leading Gilmith into trouble. Of course we'd be at fault; she's just three years old, too little to know better most of the time." The princes were fond of their baby sister, most of the time. She was adorable and sweet, and absolutely worshiped them. Although it could be frustrating, at times, when one was trying to be grown up, to have a little girl asking you to play dolls with her. Haleth had helped with that, by showing the boys that they could use the dolls to enact out their history homework, and that Gilmith usually wouldn't mind.

Haleth commented thoughtfully, "A few decades that doesn't mean all that much, to elves. Enough, though, I suppose. They would have been teenagers, or nearly so, and you were just a little child."

Rumil merely nodded in agreement, but didn't expand further. Haleth's explanation was roughly true, though for him and his brothers as elflings, the time had meant a bit more. Their father Emlyn's heritage had meant that they grew up a bit faster than other elves. Haldir had more or less looked full grown, when he had been just 42. But that was another story, for another night.

For a few moments there was a comfortable silence as the fire crackled and the winds sung over the plains. Then one of the younger riders boldly asked how his Princes and Haleth were related to Rumil. 

Rumil and Faramir took turns explaining that the Princes of Dol Amroth were related to Rumil and his brothers through Mithrellas, and that they were all descendants of Heddwyn and an elf who called himself Belegaeron. 

Rumil and his brothers had been surprised, after the Ring War, to learn Mithrellas was their aunt, rather than merely a childhood friend of their mother's who had forsaken Carys their mother for marrying an ellon their (apparently) mutual cousin Nimrodel had disapproved of. Along with that revelation had come the realization that the three brothers had a vast, vast number of distant human cousins, the part-elven descendants of Mithrellas through her and Imrazor's children, Galador and Gimlith, whom the three brothers had once befriended (though they had not known they were their own first cousins). 

The Lothlorien brothers had embraced their newly found cousins, including Prince Faramir, and had mourned that they had not known to give Boromir of Gondor a kinsman's greeting, during his sojourn with the fellowship in the Golden Wood. Oddly, Celeborn who for so many years had shared his family with Rumil and his brothers, had felt for a time the the one nearly bereft of kin on Middle Earth, after Galadriel and Elrond sailed. The brothers were happy to share their newly found cousins, including the current Princes and Princesses of Dol Amroth and their children, with their adoptive Adar, and Celeborn was happy to play the fond elder cousin to yet another vast diaspora of humans with elven heritage. 

Of the descendants of Mithrellas present at the fire, only Haleth and Faramir called Celeborn daeradar (for Faramir was Arwen's son by adoption), but Elfwine, Theodred, little Gilmith and her parents all called Lord Celeborn cousin, and had come to know him quite well, for he often visited his youngest adopted son and his long-time friend and retainer Faronglas in Rohan. 

Haleth and her cousins the Princes were familiar with most of this family history, but Haleth's attention sharpened at the mention of one of her favorite ballads. "Belegaeron, Ada, Cousin Ru? From the Lay of Belegaeron? About how an elven villager was captured by orcs while creating a diversion so that the orcs did not find the survivors of his village, and how his four granddaughters rescued him?" 

Rumil glanced at Faramir before answering, "Yes, Haley, that Belegaeron - my mother Carys was the youngest of his granddaughters, your own ancestor Mithrellas, the first Princess of Dol Amroth, was the second eldest of those granddaughters, my mother Carys' sister. The eldest was Nimrodel, and the third eldest was the Lady Rian, who is now wed to cousin Thalion of Ithilien-en-Edhil." 

Haleth noted the quiet, significant "looks" passing between her father and cousin Rumil, but knew better than to call attention to them. Instead, she remarked, "That was a sad story Faronglas, but I'm very glad your parents met and married, nonetheless." 

Faronglas smiled at the young girl, and agreed, "I as well." 

Haleth continued, "And poor Lady Galadriel. I never met her but the way you all describe her, she was very powerful. Its hard to imagine her being felled by a single blow from another elf, even a powerful warrior like Feanor."

Haleth's father Faramir pointed out quietly, "Galadriel was still relatively young when the Noldorin exiles left Aman, and not yet the bearer of Nenya, nor the Lady of the Golden Wood. Although I do know that she regretted, ever after, only being able to futilely try to defend the Lindar, and not having been able to stop what happened at Alqualonde, that day. I think it had something to do with the power she drove herself to acquire here on Middle Earth."

Faronglas' dark eyes regarded Faramir with interest, "Really? I never knew that, but it makes sense. How did you come to that conclusion, Faramir?" 

Faramir grinned wryly, "I was privileged to be party to a number of long, strange, conversations with Lady Galadriel not long before she sailed. It was one of the topics she touched on."

Theodred, feeling sad for Faronglas because his blood family was all in the west, asked softly, "When will you go to the west, Faronglas? We would miss you a lot, but I know that I would be really lonely without my Ada and Nana." 

Faronglas, with a reassuring smile for the children , answered, "Not for some time yet, my young Princes, at least not unless my Lord Rumil has other intentions. I've a mind to see you and your brother grow up and become fine men and bold warriors." 

Rumil nodded, "I am content to stay as well. I shall not leave until my brothers do, and they both have wives and young elflings and are happy here on Middle Earth." 

Theodred whispered something to Elfwine, who then offered kindly, "You will always be welcome in Rohan when I become King, cousin Ru, Faron. Not only because you helped to save us from Sauron, but because you're our friends."

Smiling, Rumil replied, "With such friends, I think it will not be time to sail for many a year."

Faronglas, further reassuring the young Princes, added, "Besides, I am not so completely bereft of family, my young friends. Lord Erestor and Lord Melpomaen, who dwell in Imladris, are both distant cousins of mine, through my mother Faenglorien." 

Faramir asked Rumil, "Through Faenglorien's cousin Laureamoriel, no?" 

Rumil, grinning, confirmed, "Yes, but you'll have to ask Erestor, Melpomaen or Glorfindel himself for that story."

Haleth, who had spent enough time at Imladris to already understand how those elves were related, mused on a different topic, "Lady Galadriel, well, Lady Artanis in Aman, sounds very much like my Nana, when she was young."

Rumil grinned, and put forth, "My aAa Lord Celeborn said that there was something of a resemblance, between Galadriel when first they met, and your mother Eowyn when she fought in the Ring War, before she married your father."

Faramir chuckled softly, "Terrifying thought, that. Well do I love all of these ladies, but Eowyn's force of will combined with my mother's prophetic foresight? Gandalf would have been delighted, but a sensible father would have been very worried, indeed."

Faronglas said with wry good humor, "I met your mother Finduilas once, Faramir mellon-nin. Finduilas mixed with Eowyn would be a terrifying creature indeed. A sensible world would be very wary."

Haleth jested softly, with a crooked grin, "She IS a terrifying creature, but normally we just call her Mithiriel."

Elfwine and Theodred broke out laughing at this description of their whimsical but indomitable cousin Mithiriel, who was as strong-willed as her mother, although not so sure a rider. 

Faramir smiled, bemused, "Well, if King Finarfin was as lucky in his daughter as I am in my three girls, than he would be a lucky elf, indeed." 

A week later, when Faramir and Eowyn and their retinue were riding home from Rohan, Haleth caught up with her parents. 

"Ada," Haleth asked, "Who was Belegaeron?" 

Faramir sighed, and Eowyn gave her husband a startled look. 

Haleth, undaunted, continued, "Rumil said an elf "called" Belegaeron, not that his name was that. And Faronglas didn't seem to like Belegaeron, from the look on his face when Rumil mentioned the name." 

Faramir murmured, "And you picked up on that. Of course you did." Then Faramir fixed his daughter with a firm look, and, in the tone of voice that he rarely used, the one that made even the most obstreperous of his children and younger siblings drop an issue, Faramir said, "Haley-girl, I'm sorry, but I will not answer that question now. Ask me again once you've come of age."

Haleth nodded her assent, and changed the subject to where they would be camping that night, to her parents' visible relief. On the inside, Faramir's youngest daughter exulted. Whenever she got that response from her father, she knew she'd hit upon a very interesting issue of great importance. She couldn't wait to ask her siblings and her young uncle and aunts about Belegaeron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters of Laureamoriel (Glorfindel's future wife in the DH AU) and Ilcetiel were also in "A Lady of Investments," Chapter 1 of this story. Faenglorien and Ilcetiel were also in "King or Carnival Elf Part," Chapter 1. Faenglorien was also in, "The Perils of Destiny's Dolls in Ingwe's Garden," Chapter 2 of this story. Helyandur, a male OC who is mentioned in this story, is the great-great-grandfather of Melpomaen, who features in the Tales of the Elves of Imladris. The elf named Belegaeron appears in chapter 10 of the Tales of the Elves of Lothlorien, and the elf named Belegaeron was once called Maglor, and was born the second son of Prince Feanor.


End file.
